time slices past us;
ticking as it mocks.
leaving us bleeding
as each second tocks.
yet still we believe;
we finite bubbles;
fragile flesh and bone,
think we are greater
than the space we hold.
as we slowly fade;
striving against odds,
that flatten mountains,
destroy dinosaurs;
erase memory.
time is relentless;
yet there is nothing
i regret about
wasting hours with you;
you lend me meaning.
and that is enough.
It is a February challenge to myself – to write novel poetry: One-a-day.
