Thousand

Sandra Burnsed
A thousand times I’ve asked myself, whatever happened to the idyllic young man who sat in these bones. Who dreamed of things to come and loved with the passion of a thousand seas. I never fully lived out any of those adventures. But I have tasted the ocean and kissed the lips of true love. Time is a possession we cannot keep, it shifts through our hands like the sand from the river bottom.

We speak in symbols and the poetry of ages, to convey emotions that run deep. In thoughts that we dare not speak, yet speak easily between ourselves. The world is so different now. Changed and twisted from the simplicity of yesterday. Where thoughts and passions were played with and never seemed to end.

Now we live under shrouds of darkness with never enough time or freedom. Are we not the same two? Has not the purity of love remained? Or is it stained with blood of a thousand cuts of experience and pain. But I dare not ask these questions of you. All I do is appreciate the moments I’m given. The stolen specks of time where your attention is wholly focused on mine. Where the world has not changed. And I can hear that sweet laughter once again.

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