Out of My Grasp
No matter how fast I run, or how high I climb,
It always escapes me, that being called “Time”
It is a cunning sparrow, taunting with each rasp
But with each step nearer, flies out of my grasp
Fleeing from my hands, away from my clutch
Just millimeters away but not enough to touch
Running up a steep mountain, I lunge to clasp
But stepping closer to the edge, I let out a gasp
Richly hued feathers painted black and blue,
Each trapping my limbs, my feet stuck like glue
Plant-like appendages wrapping around like vines,
Securing me in place to watch the minute hand’s line
Each tick, each beat, each shake of its slender tail,
Speeds up my heart rate and the pace at which I inhale
Staying in the same place, I beg and plead for more
More of that being which continues to soar and ignore
To this day the sparrow continues to hide and mock,
To glide around others and let out a triumphant squawk
For no one can stop time, whether I am young or old
Only during my final breaths, the sparrow I can hold
Written: July 7, 2021
Contest: “Grasp”
Sponsor: Constance La France
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