Time,
it’s a funny thing.
You think one more day,
but eventually,
that one day,
turns into seven months.
And I wonder why
I don’t mean quite as much to you
as I did yesterday,
because yesterday,
was so far away.

The grains of time slips through my fingers,
who knows, when that hand will run empty,
but what then.
It may have already run dry
and I’m to blind to notice.
To stubborn,
since these seven months went by,
with just
one.
more.
day.

And they say,
the longer apart,
the closer together,
but is there a closer together after all this time...