Burlap

When the sky is raining tears, and you reflect on all your years, wasted lifetime hoarding fears, a life or burlap, not cashmeres. The ticking of the clock persists, as time, they say, does not exist, can time and timeless coexist? can you hold them in your fist? All your joints are getting stiffer, life's not short, you beg to differ, you wish the days and nights were swifter, as you suppress a potent shiver. ©Danielle White