I don’t mean to seem ungrateful.
I wake up to you, spread out in front of me,
your contours glistening even in the earliest morning hours.
Every inch of you is full of possibility.
Then you’re off and running, all mysterious.
I’m hit with the fact that there never seems to be enough of you.
But realize, even if I had more of you, I’d feel deprived.
(And, oddly, when you linger
I get edgy.)
Why is it never enough?
You’ve stood by me in your own way,
but so often you seem distant, impossible to reach.
When I’m not paying attention, you sneak off into the recesses of the day.
You resist my embraces and never stay long,
stealing my breath with your abrupt exits.
You don’t just belong to me.
Why are you always in a rush to leave me?
When you’re here, why do you act like you’d rather move on?
Sssshhh. No need to answer.
Just slip in the door like you usually do.
If I’m not here, leave a note;
let me know you’ll return, to be beside me as I dream my dreams
and when I awake.
I try not to think about how much of you I’ve lost already.
Or how I’ve tried to hold you back, sometimes desperate, clinging…
So I’ve made a promise to myself to savor and appreciate you more,
for what you are.
But… I’d be forever grateful if you’d stop and let me hold you.
If only for an instant.
And then I’ll let you go so that stories may be created,
and lives can start and end.
“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” ~Annie Dillard
Time: The indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole.
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