As It Should Be Poem by Nim Lee

The years have drifted through my fingers
Run down my face
Leaving the usual marks and traces
Then evaporated and disappeared.

Where did it all go to? All this time?

I had thought it would be like the seed of the dandelion
That it would drift and float until it landed in some spot
Where it might germinate to flower again.

I had thought that it would fall like sand to make a heap,
A monument to mark where it had landed.

But all that’s left are tracks
Below the high tide line.
The ebb and flow will soon wash
And erase all evidence
And leave a smooth and empty space.