Today
I wanted to reach out today.
Then remembered you weren’t there.
Funny how the always in
“I’ll always be there,”
Disappears along with Forever.
The location of “there” changes too.
They all shift to be someone else’s
“Always there, Forever.”
But, that’s life for you.
Your train keeps chugging along.
As the scenery changes,
The passengers change;
Even the track changes.
Some trains get better engines,
Even a shiny new caboose;
Eventually, it all changes.
But, you know what I’ll remember?
The tiniest bit of graffiti
That somehow never gets erased.
Do you remember when and where?
Do you remember how it got there?
Yeah…I didn’t think you would.
Sand
When you leave the beach,
It finds its way into life.
Your hair, car, bathing suit.
It carries with it the smells
Of the ocean.
On a playground,
It is more functional
Than a memory.
It still comes with you,
In your hair, shoes, clothes.
Then in the hourglass,
It all comes together
And makes sense.
The kind of rationale
That makes you lose your mind.
In an hourglass
It is functional.
Though each grain
Represents a memory
As well.
If I chose a grain
From the bottom
Of your personal
Hourglass. Could
You tell me of the day?
The day you met her,
Do you remember that one?
The moment you decided,
When was that?
The second everything changed.
Does any other grain
Matter as much as the
Other?
The last time you had peace,
Is it more valuable than turmoil?
Does the coned pile in the bottom
Weigh more than the ever
Dwindling top?
Which section do you value
More?
Do you realize that the
Top and bottom do not
Equal all?
There will always be the few
Grains stuck in descent.
Will you remember to
Assign these grains value?
Or will they slip through
Unnoticed
As you count the others?
A single grain of sand
Can tip the favor scales.
That single grain
Can also be your last.
So spend your grains wisely.
I still have a few
That I’m waiting
On to drop.
But I won’t miss
Those on their way down.
From the grains in motion
I seek to remove
Items from my
Bucket List.
You were one of them.
Copyright ©2010 Natasha Guy
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