THE WEIGHT OF SECONDS

The Weight of Seconds

Time slips by, a silent thief,

unheeded in its steady tread—

clocks tick soft,

watches hum,

their faces blank to careless eyes.

We drift through days,

unmindful of the hours’ quiet march,

until they turn rare,

until they gleam like coins

we scramble to clutch,

to hoard against the fade.

Every minute sharpens then,

a jewel to cradle close,

each second a breath

I’d stretch to hold you longer—

to save, to savor,

to etch into the marrow

of memory’s fragile vault.

I’d pause the world,

rewind the hands,

to linger in the glow

of every glance,

every whispered trace

your presence carves.

One hope anchors me:

to pour the best of what I am

into your keeping—

to lay it bare,

a gift unmarred,

expecting nothing less

than the echo of your light.

You stir something deep,

a tide that lifts me whole,

and I’d mirror that back—

reciprocate the way

your nearness warms

the edges of my soul.

Pleasure blooms

in the quiet we share,

those stolen stretches

where time bends soft—

your laughter spilling

like sunlight through a crack,

your voice a thread

I’d weave into forever.

I’d hold you then,

all of you—

your frame a fragile-perfect thing,

a canvas of care,

my hands trembling

to honor every line,

to guard the delicate

and the fierce within.

The hours stretch thin now,

their weight a sudden press,

and I’d trade a thousand

unseen yesterdays

for one more turn

of this fragile clock—

to stand with you,

to feel the pulse

of moments we’ve claimed,

knowing time,

once ignored,

is all we have