time.

it's so precious. time.
we say we 'have it' or we 'don't have it'
as if it was an object
but you can't hold on to it
it runs through your fingers
sometimes i can hear the ticking of the time
m m m moving on.
it feels so good right now. where i am.
i want to stay. dig my toes into the ground
and hold on to my teeth
leaning against the wind that is tearing at my clothes
pushing me forward
i see my grandparents moving on. their bodies
are aching. how must it be like if you have to choose to
go back to bed at eleven am because you are already tired?
there is this tenderness i have towards them.
their hands.
i always feel tears rising when i look at their hands.
the skin on the back of their hands stretching.
the birthmarks like little islands scattered across the ocean of beige
hills and valleys.
the fine lines, i wonder when they formed?
and their faces. i hope time won't fade my memory of their gentle eyes.
they are still here. my grandparents.
i sometimes wish time would stop so they could stop aging.
but part of me has this feeling that they might not want that.
maybe they are reading to move on. after all they have been here longer than me.
time is a funny thing.