The weight of time

Time is a river, silent, swift,
A fleeting breath, a whispered gift.

It moves through fingers, slips away,

No hands can beg, no voice can stay.

I held your laughter once so tight,

A candle warm, a guiding light.

But time, relentless, pulled you far,

A wish now lost among the stars.

I trace the echoes, soft and thin,

Where your voice and touch had been.

The world still turns, yet I remain,

A shadow dressed in quiet pain.

Oh, time—you thief, you cruel embrace,

You carve the lines upon my face.

You take, you steal, you never bend,

Yet ask me still to call you friend.

If only love could weave you slow,

Or barter back the ones we know.

But all we hold is what has been,

And all we lose is once again.

So here I stand, and here I weep,

For moments lost, for love I keep.

And though you're gone, still time must prove,

The deepest loss is born of love.

Peter m