The grains of sand
slip through my fingers.
At my feet,
a silent drift gathers ~
spilling over,
spilling fragments of memory.
Why didn't I see it
forming beneath me?
Or did they only seem slower then,
until you found me in a dream ~
And even you turned to sand in the end.
There was no way to hold you.
You slipped away,
leaving a void,
even in my dreams.
These grains carry the weight of loss,
the hollow weight of quiet emptiness.
Perhaps this is time's only mercy ~
a kind of poetic justice:
it slips by in a single glance,
leaving no room for calculation or regret,
only the soft, soft whisper of farewell.
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