In a Moments Notice

 

Past memories; shards of glass,

Hanging from sweet hourglass.

Reflecting all the pain in me.

Minutes pass; atrophy.

pins and pricks; am I alive?

Desecration! How I strive!

In this moment I refrain

Colors in my face do drain.

The sight of you is just too much

My memory forming you from dust.

Anger foreboding as I grasp

Those ever shinning shards of glass.

Trickling scarlet in my hands

As the glass runs out of sand.

Reviews

[Brette Medb]

I really liked this. Time is something that cannot be held onto, it's always moving and it's sad indeed that so many people are obsessed with time when all they think of is the future or the past never living in the present moment. The flow of this was good but one line seemed a bit off for the rest of the flow.

Colors in my face do drain.

The do just sounds wrong with the line after it. I think if you reread it it would be fine. Nice write.

Brette