The Time That Slips On My Hands Poem by RIC BASTASA

the time that slips on my hands
splits through my fingers

so fast like a dream that cuts
itself before dawn
when i wake up sweating
and feel the need of a
glass of cold water

slowly the sands of time fall
on my feet

the winds of change blow it
and then
i feel the emptiness of its
departure

the heart is left wondering
what is it that is left undone

the mind has answers but as usual
it fails to consider the
reasoning ability of feelings

you look at fate in the eye
feeling so guilty and wasted