What Is Time

What is time

But a series of passing moments

Thoughts of that which might be.

Is it a longing unravelled  

By a scattered body of time

Like shells on an ebbing tide

That can be rolled back

As the moon pulls them

To the shores of one’s hope.

What is time

But a series of floating images.

Like pictures on a gallery wall

That hang playfully with laughter

And a string of never ending exchanges

With quiet moments of understanding

The foreplay of a two souls,

Drawn by another’s presence.

What is time

But the thrill of anticipation

Where patience seems out of reach

And the wait plays like butterflies

Exhausting the beauty of our imagination

It is what tells us inside

That all is worth the wait

Of inexhaustible time.