Five in the evening comes no easier than the hours before it,
Wandering around,
Treading on bare earth,
Searching for worms,
And waiting until we’re gone.
Life is long, my mother always said,
The days stretch into eternal swathes of time,
Silky moments that appear to resist slipping away.
I realized years ago that this burden was only for one of us,
A sacrifice of mine freely given.
You need me to watch you drift away,
And so I carry it on bare earth in hopes of softening its sharp edges.
But I do wish that out of sight didn’t mean out of mind.
Literary Musings 