Time, she says.

She says, I think I’ll write about that.

About the red hands

and open doors

and memories being made

as the seconds

tick

tick

tick on by to the beat of

time.

Time, she says, is a funny thing

because the minutes pass through

and the hours wave good-bye

and hello

and good-bye again.

Yes time, she says, is definitely a silly thing.

So rare, fleeting, temporary

and even that is defined by time.

As we exclaim our desire for it to be

over, or

the day to just

end.

But you’ll never get another one like it;

not another chance to grab it by the hands

and scream

TODAY WILL BE MINE!

And then you make it

yours, that is.

Time, she says, is indeed a silly thing,

as we realize its loss

too little,

too late.

Because already the moments have

flown away

with no promise of return.

And we did not even get the chance

to hug them good-bye

and say,

I think I’ll remember that.

Exhaustion, she says, is an overpowering thing…

I just want this day

to.be.over

she changes.

No smile, no joke about time,

it’s too little,

too late.

But what about, I say,

the red hands

and open doors

and memories being made as seconds

smile

smile

smile past you to

make up what is your life?