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Hourglass
July 6, 2011
Sand upon Sand,
The sound of whispers,
Of living the deceased.
Golden grains of Sand,
Rub together,
Waltzing together,
Defeating the function of Sand
That we know: the surface for waves
To crash upon relentlessly,
Endlessly.
Sand is for deserts and oceans,
But certain sands of gold
Are captured and bottled
Into a small, curved cage,
Entrapping the whispers,
Silencing the living deceased,
Keeping them nearby.
Sand atop is timeless,
Sand below,
The end.
Time is
Sand upon Sand,
The sound of whispers,
Living the deceased,
Hourglass.
© Ashley B., Potomac, MD
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This article has 3 comments.
CarrieAnn13 GOLD said...
on Jul. 24 2011 at 3:52 pm
Great poem! I love your inspiration for it. :) Anyway, you have great imagery here and I like your writing style.
