Time dips its fingers into the waters of my mind,
only to resurface old memories
that cling to cobwebs,
sinking and rising with the tide.

Unraveling a womb
of my malicious intentions
that remain etched into my past,
forever plaguing my mind.

I shake away winter’s frost
and lullabies of broken years,
reaching my neck high
to kiss the break of day.

The Sun gently presses its fingertips
through marshmallow clouds
that melt into dreams of tomorrow,
breathing the sweet nectar breezes of dying spring.

Tying tight, unwanted memories
that cling to an outstretched kite-wire,
taking flight with birds of summer’s end
that fold into white origami swans.

Hidden beneath my breath,
secrets drip through an hourglass,
slipping from my mind
and fading into oblivion.

Time is the root of this world,
like the roots of a tree,
holding it upright.
A cycle that repeats itself.