the world is e.n.d.i.n.g
every. second, is. fleeting.
minutes. become empty pockets
of moments. no longer,able. to, support
those. who .see
each; br,eath ,as a tick. on their own
clock; reminding them that
they too are
run, from. their lungs.
forgettin to. let e a c h insta.nt
take hold, of their. flesh.
even. if father time. has claws,,, that
at least, etched into their
bones. would be, the
smiles, wide enough.
to convince, the man on. the moon
to. hold, back night,fall. a little longer
letting. this brief, lifetime, linger.
and the ,laughter. that rippled; time, into
deep wrinkles. of prol,o.nged being.
scratches, that. symbol victory's, over. time's
so that. when. our, clocks run. out of time
we can, be winners. without
being the first to the finish line.
leave. our, bodies behind.
as, time capsules.
filled, with. the lives
enjoy each moment