Sands of Time

In quick sand, sinking slowly
Surrounded by fine thoughts
With granules of truth
And just enough warmth
To make it bearable

Moving up the ankles
Which exist next to
His elbow, her knee
And the corporate ladder
With broken rungs

There is no talk
Of rescue or struggle
Only of weather
Of arms, legs, and toes
Of sunrises but not sunsets

Here lie the captives
Of dreams long forgotten
As the sands of time
Eroded the hopes of the young
And shaped them into
the “good enough” of the old.

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