Poem for her

Times to cherish and prize

Trying to take my time each day, yet still sand passes – in its regular way. Dunes pile up and then vanish from sight, paying no heed to darkness nor to light. It’s Wednesday then Sunday in a blink of an eye. Where an orange sun sets in an unknown sky. No treaty is in place with the passing of the hour. It moves without a trace, like the sprouting of a flower. So when I hold your hand, and I close my eyes. Don’t misread my tears, my love, these times to cherish and prize.


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