The Sands of Time

a soft, whispered hiss of

grains gently spill 
with the breath of dawn,

awakening the quiet hourglass

we call life.
​
i peer into yours, greeted 
by stories woven into
granular strands
tracing the contours 
of my auricle silently
flowing onward
into open palms.

grains
a bridge between
your heartbeat and mine
​
in your iris, once vibrant hues

of memories fade to sepia,
joys of yesterday
dissolve into sunlit
sand.

a river of forgotten birthdays,
truncated names, 
silent syllables.

​

i dive into the warm tide, holding
a breath that stills water,
longing to surface
with spoors of lost time. 

​​

ripples form as i come up for air;

you turn to listen,

but only for your 

ears to tell you lies,

​​

a gaze that reaches through,

finding nothing to hold—

just a few words

that draw a blank.

​​

i catch you,                                               adrift,

in a labyrinth of yesterdays 

that never truly happened.

​​

so i find myself,

on the edge of a whisper,

pondering,

should i call for help

in the place

where you may be last seen?