Where does time go?
It slips through fretting fingers
as the mind lingers on the day's worries.
Tighten your grip!
Still
it slips through
as you seize
the moment;
daring to bend it to
your will.
This passing instant,
now gone,
left behind
memory
consequence
and a question:
Where does time go?
A contest entry
- open quickie by still.she.waits.
500 points, ended June 18, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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