Time

Time never walks with her

It stops to look in awe;

its heart melts as it watches her move.

Standing frozen by her long, flowing hair

and warm from her precious smile

Or, Time flies with her:

flies like the monarchs in its stomach

or flies like the clouds that her head is in.

Nevertheless, Time will be lost with her,

holding her feet to the ground

as she builds up our castle

where we wash away the long, lonely nights.

And Time will come when a star falls across the horizon,

whose orange glow falling upon her feet,

leaving themselves in the sand.

And as the night goes on and the waves grow heavy,

so too do her prints

until ours are not alone on the beach.

Time does not walk with her,

for she walks with me

and someday soon

so will they.