The sadness felt like sink sand,
at the top of an hour glass.
Slowly, sliding down,
little by little, less sound could be heard.
A vision came into his mind,
it was of a field of blue flowers,
waving gently in the wind.
Three children ran down the hill,
they were laughing, freely and innocent.
Playfully, they started rolling,
down the hills, through the flowers.
The lovely vision ended.
The sand was now over his head.
There was silence.
He took his last breath,
as his foot lodged in the center
of the hour glass.
His fight was over.
His time had come.
About the Creator
Rowan Finley
Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
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Comments (4)
Maybe time doesn’t take everything—maybe it leaves us with one last and perfect memory.✨
Love Love your writing style!
It's a thought- provoking art ......which reflects the deepest mysteries of life and death....
That is sad. Life and memories...