Missing In Time

Missing in time are you,
Sand that flows down the hour glass?
Wondering if blood runs thicker than a
river or a stranger thinner than a string.
Staying or leaving is the difference
between knowing and imagining.
Blood to tears, The same?
Was the truth to hard to bear or not good
enough?
Twenty-four years of a burdening cross of
wonder for a name.
Does time cease to exist when the last sand
drops?
Or is missing time the only connection that
exists?


Tori J Cuddigan