yellowpigs.net

Sands

Sara Smollett

June 8, 1997

sands in an hour glass
turn yourself over and bury me inside
time brings changes to be washed away
and under
foot feet
fighting to walk
sandals don't seem to be made for sand
always doing things the hard way
think there's a chance
want to leave an impression greater than footprints
washing away in the morning tide
compelled to walk closer and closer to the water
where there is less of a chance of anything
remaining
hoping
maybe just maybe
someone will see those steps and pause and wonder
immortalized and remembered in some small way
conflicting desires
footprints end
drawn into the water
coolness enveloping warm flesh
icy revitalization
reality sinks deeper and deeper
each day begins anew
with new hope
new chance for defeat
new challenge
a new sun rises
sun sets
maybe the other way around
night is quiet yet
loud with frogs
crickets
chickens
ceaseless chirps
rain squalls
carefree summer warmth
turns to unbareable heat
longing for Christmas winds
or true winter
make do with cooling ocean dips
under sun and moon and stars
sounds fade into the bakground
into the accepted and unquestionable
out of mind for young lovers
tumbling
through the sands of time
as the hourglass is turned over
their traces erased
as we sift through truth
grain after grain
the lovers trapped and buried
captured within curved glass
under observation
pressed for all
time.