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