Imagine if instead of counting up,
We counted down.

We counted down, were
Issued a number of days.

And it would start in the thousands,
Until one day you noticed.

It was in the hundreds,
Where have the days gone?

You thought you had so many;
Now there's only one.

When I am falling down,
You will pick me up,
As we rise again, we miss the floor,
We rise above it all.
You came for me,
Healed my heart with kind words
And taught me how to fly.
I love you.

time has a scent
that's quite different
from bitter lemon zest
to cool peppermint

like that of sidewalk chalk
heavy rains keep washing off
time comes in many colors
beyond that on the box

sampling a taste
pouring out in waves
time is a surgeon
set to operate

is a makeshift shelf
where life's books are held
to one day be read
by somebody else

time is all of these
among many other things
but most of all
time is the cruelest of thieves

I will walk down a road someday,
In a city, or a village, or some country lane,
And I will no longer look behind me.
I will know the brick colour,
Of my house and the one next door,
But I will remember, that this place,
This home of mine, was new to me
And you, once.
Once, we were travellers.