An Impatient Wind

Time passes like an impatient wind,

And as it does, the memories wane.

Like the smoke of a shisha,

the scents hold strong but the vision

slowly disappears.


Torrential feelings, icy gusts,

cut through bone marrow and skin

leaving in its anxious haste a

hardened shell, frozen.


Time passes like an impatient wind,

And the figurines that used to

play in the mind’s eye so oft

trip and slip and slowly dissolve.

Features dissipate


like formations made in the sand,

altered by the eager gale.

Cling to images as you might

but the forms escape.


Time is a capricious lover,

Flirting with the innocent with

pledges to stay forever

and heady incantations of

fantasies fulfilled.


Then, in the dead of night or in

subtle moments in between

time slips from beneath the sheets and

wrinkled are they left.



The image that was once the form

that you could just about touch

in silent moments in the dark

chases nimble time.


And then one day when you awake

and realize that it’s gone

you’ll spend your whole life searching for

what you can’t recall.



Keen to capture the scents and sounds

To trap Image in your mind

You sprint, too hasty through your life

And never beat time.

2 thoughts on “An Impatient Wind

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