Visiting Time
Some fools believe that time, she waits for no man, but I know better. For I have seen the face of time and it is not pretty, I know she waits for all of us.
Waiting is all she does.
Time is waxy flaxen and weak, it is dry and flaky like the edges of a rice crock, where the broth had beat a hasty retreat. Now the fire’s gone out, and all that remains are indelible marks upon its canvass, our skin. Where once resiliency stood in testament of youth now does the show of vaguely vanishing dents and furrows, announce that we have found time, where she has been waiting all along.
I have seen Time, and held her by the hand. I have sat by her bedside and looked upon her toothless face in helplessness.
I know what else waits.
Sometimes I can hear her faintly calling out my name or mouthing the words that never came, straining to hear my replies. Until it became, time, to say goodbye.
Waiting is all she does.
Time is waxy flaxen and weak, it is dry and flaky like the edges of a rice crock, where the broth had beat a hasty retreat. Now the fire’s gone out, and all that remains are indelible marks upon its canvass, our skin. Where once resiliency stood in testament of youth now does the show of vaguely vanishing dents and furrows, announce that we have found time, where she has been waiting all along.
I have seen Time, and held her by the hand. I have sat by her bedside and looked upon her toothless face in helplessness.
I know what else waits.
Sometimes I can hear her faintly calling out my name or mouthing the words that never came, straining to hear my replies. Until it became, time, to say goodbye.
posted by Shininggoat at 12:48 PM
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