Time

I wonder how long I could sit here thinking about how to describe you.

Would it be days?

Days are too short, minutes are only seconds, and seconds are only moments in time.

Would it be months?

I think not. Months are most times shorter than the days that number them.

Or would it be years?

No. Years are the quickest of all, for while we're living through them, they seem to drag by.

But then, one day, we wake up.

Your skin is wrinkled, and your body is no longer a temple.

And the memories that you meant to have made are disappearing before your very eyes.

So how long would I sit here, thinking about how to describe you?

I wouldnt waste time on it.

For even the most famous words are forgotten,

they fade away like the footsteps of the prophets on the Sahara.

So why would I waste any time on pathetic words,

when I could be making memories with you?