Joey Jones


Sand


Time's touch, erosive
its caress, relentless
tearing at the rock
until it is no more

Turned to sand
vindictive and vengeful
as each grain goes a separate
lonely way.

It gathers in the wind
partnering with time
destroying anything in its path
grieving over its lost origins.

In its misery it seeks company
finding solace
finding spirituality
in destruction and death.

It falls through the curved glass
grain after grain
of lost moments
surrendered to the desert
of the past.

Me, a victim
to both sand and time
just a fragile reminder
of mortality.

Joey Jones 5/14

Submitted: Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Topic of this poem: time

Form:


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