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Hourglass

by D. Xavier Bari

Grains of tiny glass
do not slide gently
through idle hands.

They shear, burn,
embed themselves
in droplets of rouge;
they subtly coalesce
into a pool of doubt.

These pensive moments
do not glide idly by—
they wound in passing,
hiss their apathy
at wanton indecision.

Would the necessary words
flow so freely, so true,
as these futile moments
lost within words unsaid?

It's too early to tell her,
but life won't let me wait:
time pulling like gravity.

And these searing shards
which martyr closed fists
are how regrets are made.

04/12/2003

Posted on 04/12/2003
Copyright © 2024 D. Xavier Bari

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Lori I Wolfe on 04/13/03 at 01:35 AM

Excellent work of art Dante ... I love this piece of work! =0)

Posted by Maryellen Lebeda-Parra on 04/13/03 at 05:25 PM

very nice, very nice ... i would say more, but it is morning, and my coffee hasn't kicked in yet!

Posted by Beth K Hannah on 11/11/03 at 04:40 AM

fascinating

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