Time

TIME

Through twists and turns
into the depths of sleeplessness,
I follow night's restless phantom
to my darkened window.
Veiled in moonlight, I stand —
a silhouette of sagging flesh
slowly dying in stale bedroom air.
Time is layered upon my skin —
carelessly draped years,
worn and wrinkled
like an old newspaper
wrapped around some fragile antique.
Deep in my bones, wisdom aches.
Age-weary eyes blink back the past
as I struggle to accept fate.
A faceless thief has drained my fountain of youth —
shriveled this woman and half-emptied her mind.
Often I come to this odd hour of the night
to collect my scattered thoughts,
but mostly I come to borrow time from the darkness;
time I cannot repay.