Time Line

Time’s hands were
hooded bandits.
Robbers.
Thieves.
Ticking a time warp
that stole precious
would-be memories
from a plate
of what
could-have-been.

At least there is a Now.
Somehow,
its hands haven’t
taken the Present,
the Today,
the At This Moment.

Those have been left
for the gray hairs,
the achy muscles,
and the scars.
Today is all that we have.
It is all that we are
till the sun gives way
to grace us.
Someday, we will not be cheated.
Someday, we will not be robbed.
Someday, we will show the world
exactly what we are made of,
and our ingredients are glorious.

Until then,
we remain current
and constant for the ones we love.
Like a time line that will never fade
retrograde, or dissipate. ​