Things seem to slip through my hands these days.
Time. Glassware. Water. Children.
I have my hands in everything.
On every thing and everyone.
I am holding them.
I am holding on.
And then.
They slip.
Through my hands,
and left to their own devices,
do they still hear my voice?
Time, keeps going.
Glassware, keeps breaking. Shattering everywhere and
you get out the broom,
you get out the vacuum,
shattering whatever peace,
whatever moment you were in,
to clean up the shards,
so there is no future hurt and blood and screeching.
Water keeps flowing, and you ride it for a while,
and then wake up,
and look around at what part of the embankment
you've crawled up upon.
Everything is still ok.
Children. Well, they will slip through your hands.
That is just a fact.
You will reach out to hug them,
or to elicit the same smile or laugh you did,
just yesterday.
But you will need something new today,
as with every new day,
because they are new today,
too.

Thanks for reading.
tt