43
Till the Hourglass Stops by Millie Mitchell We’re running out of time, You and I. Always watching as the timer Ticks down. We know it’ll end, It always does, But that doesn’t make it Any easier. The anticipation beats Alongside our hearts, Chiming and knelling, Squeaking like our coffin’s hinges. The black and white roses, The spirals and the clocks. A monotone skeleton Of the decaying memories That slip away like sand In our fractured hourglass. A formalin desperation Drowns our thoughts, As we scramble to preserve Our remaining days.
