I heard a loud crash, As my prized hour glass landed with a smash, And shattered into pieces on the floor. I looked at the mess as I tried to envision, Tried to remember the way it had looked before. I stuck my hand into the sand and held it up to my face. It could never be the same, It was something I can never replace. The wind began to blow the sand away, So I grabbed on tight and begged it to stay. The tighter I gripped, The more it slipped between my fingers. Each grain slicing my skin as it went, Leaving me with wounds and self-doubt. And before I knew it, All my time had run out.
An old poem I wrote when I was a freshman in high school.