Sand  Poem

​Fighting the Time Thief

He enters silently, leaving no trace of his having touched me while I slept

or while I walked, worked, loved, played

He is without conscience in the damage he inflicts

his only concern is marking me, the next day, next month, next year

Marked with the passage of his unseen hand

I am altered moment by moment until I become a stranger in the mirror. 

Escape is impossible, Time will  own me

But a truce is struck in this fight against the inevitable thief stealing my youth, my vigor, my life;

I will go gracefully and fall to the winnowing floor

I will , however, go with my thumb in his eye when he winks me out of Time.

​Would you do less?


Francesca Quarto