The seconds of each and every hour
are slowly falling through time
marked by the regular drips
falling from a tap
that cries to itself
in the darkness
of early morning
rather like I do
when left alone
to think.
At breakfast
the grains of sand
in this egg timer
falling into the space
of the hollow glass sphere
always remind me of you.
The sand is still running
and we are still young enough
To have hope in our future