Minutes in time:
your hand in mine.
Tiny and also bony, fingers long –
though my own was larger, your own was so solid.
Not a minute in life where it really did not belong.
Minutes in time:
your hand in mine.
From a little woman seeking your brownish eyes up there
to the sobs in your lap as you brushed my damp hair.
Some memories agitated, some completely careless.
Our hands remain in emphasis, while the remainder comes to be hazy.
Minutes in time:
your hand in mine.
Our fingers are tied therefore completely spaced.
That sensation – still in me – years have not eliminated.
Exactly how you passed me, each time, simply a bit of your poise.
Minutes in time:
your hand in mine.
We clutched securely when life brought us factors to regret,
as we did when we giggled till we almost rate.
And also the really last time, as your heart was released,
with my directly your breast
while you took your dying breath
and also my hurting hand begged for one last capture.
Minutes in time:
their hands currently in mine.
Kids that move oh so carefully in position.
Tiny fingers that fit, however can never ever change.
They do not also recognize just how swiftly they’ll expand,
and also just how quick it can go –
however I do, so I sluggish
myself down.
I take a breath as I tighten my grasp.
This priceless stage is a passing ship.
I feel their soft skin.
I allow their light in,
where it joins your own,
still to life in my pores.
And also I feel your deep charm instilling their cores.
Minutes in time:
your hand in mine.
Exactly how I desire,
just how I long,
just how I thirst,
just how i want
for a little black switch
identified, merely,
REWIND.
