While toil

lends time,

joy steals it,

dragging it

around corners.

Like wind over

a landscape,

speeding through

life’s moments,

when engrossed

we sip wine

in fluted glasses

and turn to find

the bottle empty

before we’ve

had our fill.

We discover

time slipped,

despite promising

forever in

excited whispers.

As we dance

in its embrace,

time plans

its escape.

Independent content creator, ghostwriter, author https://tinyurl.com/y2cgqhgv mental health advocate, and poet. bridgetwebbber@outlook.com

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