SPIN
I’m burning through this time,
Where has the sand gone?
When has it slip past me?
Even when I try to firmly grip the earth,
It falls loose
Is the fate set aside for me?
Or is it I who is to blame?
When I turn,
The caterpillar is a butterfly,
Then it dies again
Apples in the autumn ripen, yet
the ducks in spring are here again
The tomorrows I will know,
the faces that will blur
frighten me the most
My daughter picks berries in the south,
and it’s dismaying,
knowing she will see a world without me
by her mother’s side
Children sit on my lap,
where my knees hurt from arthritis,
ask me to tell them silly stories
until they get distracted
There was a world I knew,
where wasn’t I gray,
and where felt I forever had a place,
Now the sand is suffocating me,
And now the time is setting me ablaze
Is today my setting?