The wail of a love song –
I do not pretend to understand
The shifting verse of fluid feeling
The slender twigs oft broken, the …
Always that never was.
Yet, in intuition there is
That deep sense of understanding
A moment that holds, in its bosom
Only to lose it again –
The tight clasp, sand pushing out
Grip trembling, eroding slowly
Through the seams of my skin
I pretend to hold, glistening sand
Losing myself in the love I let go.
Tipping the hourglass, voluntarily
Empty now, my chest
For another hand to softly
Tip the hourglass again.