Movement of Sand

Sand moves swiftly between the tiny gap of the hour glass.

Is it going to be enough time? you ask?

No

God no

My hands on either side of your glowing face,

as I remember our first embrace.

The way that I stumbled so awkwardly so nervously unsure

that I was the one you would most long for.

Your curly brown hair and those hazel nut eyes

that only made me think that you were like the heven of Nutella in disguise.

And in those moments I did not know I had flipped an hour glass, where the sand would run in a fast flowing movement down a deep pipe

that could not be stoped by medication a doctor had prescribed.

Like your tumour, our loved started small

sadly it became out of control.

But even in the hospital hallway I lifted you onto my feet and we danced in a slow movement to a sweet beatle beat.

The sand had moved to fast

it was like someone had shaken and sturd the glass.

The rough substance huanted my dreams as the ones of you and me old on our front porch faded at the seams.

As the bottom became half full

I believed you would cheat death I was a fool.

But I was a happy fool, in love with even with your adorable new shiny head.

Even as the doctor said the movement of sand through in the glass has almost been spent.

I simply held you closer and tighter and tighter as the final grains of sands trickledown.

Then I had to watch you be lowered six feet into the ground.