It moves hands round his face;
caressing, unhurried, as if every second counts.
It slips away, weightless and precious,
like a bright silk scarf slides
out of our hands and into the wind.
It drags, heavy on our minds,
barely pulling its weight along.
We treasure it like pixie dust,
handing it out carefully like shiny gold coins.
We squander it like we have enough to burn,
spending it frivolously on whatever fancy we like.
We race it for the best of each day
trying to keep one step ahead all the way.
We chase it when we fall behind,
gathering up all the little bits we can possibly find.
We capture and freeze it in paper capsules
to preserve and prize forever.
It rushes past like a flock of bright birds,
Its only evidence the feathers it leaves behind
that we tuck into our hearts
as we follow its flight minute by minute.
03/12/2013 ~ Hyoko Hime-sama
