It's Time

We have none to lose
Yet, it slips away
When most kinetic
In jubilant high spirits
It slips between grasp
Like pouring sand
Prying my own hands open  
To lose my miser's cloak
At peak's potential
Yet it trudges onward
With seconds saturated  
Scraps go to the dogs
Stay vigilant in panning
This eternal river for gold
Some days, perfume  
Wisps that float by
Brushing into us  
With memories  
Like close embraces  
Mixed with soft lips
Other days, stenching
A cruel taskmaster  
Under whose thumb  
We wish to be free
Numbering our days
Whether count towards escape
Or pass bittersweet tears  
Like goodbyes to an old friend
Our eyes reflect our time
Written by Josiah
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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