Nine thirty-four a.m. was just a time,
Just a time to live,
Time that passed on the clock,
Time that drifted on like a lost balloon,
Time that jumped from second to second,
Minute to minute,
Hour to hour.
Only now it is a time of darkness.
A simple minute that passes by every day
To send reminders of laughter
And the creak of a swing.
Memories flood in by the first second
Then flow out like a waterfall
Right at the thirty-fifth minute.
It’s crazy that life moves on before the ready mark;
The gun already sounded
And the laces forgot to tie themselves.
The word “go” means so much more than the activity
And “stop” is everything that needs to happen.
Time grows between events and scenarios,
It moves faster and creates space
Between loved ones.
The feeling of longing for someone’s touch
And a loving embrace
Is the most painful
When their soul no longer encompasses
That feeling itself.
