it is slow
the tick of time
it drags
back a little further each time
i wince and watch
the minutes still
they creep
a leisure walk
i wish it was a run
snap a picture to save a moment
but time moves so slow
that moments are hours
for the lonely,
this is torture
but the lovers find it
bliss
though for me
it is nye,
not a blessing nor a curse
it is the time in which i note
that many minutes passed
here we are
in a moment still
finding who we are
and suddenly we realize
that moments are not hours
and now instead of walking slow
time has begun
to race
- time ticks
