~~Hourglass~~

Time
grows bitter
in the careless
hand,
and it runs
through
our fingers
as does blood
or sand
just to fall
and to
spill
we've all learned
how
to kill
and yet not
a one fears
for their
life--
but how sad
that it's such
and we don't
know
as much
as to weep
for the hearts
of the
young--
yes
it burned,
once before,
and it
stung
like
the briar
but it all
fades away
like the
breath
of desire
and flame
on the skin
which is such
close a kin
to those times,
so bitter
in our
careless
hands.


(c) 8/26/00 The Mad Poet (A.K.LaBelle)