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.

_

Wind.

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.

_

Time.

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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