You, Time, Love 

The air is thick in the presents of you. 

Nerves shot to hell 

And there never seems to be enough Time,

Her wicked game

Makes Love bow to his needs in prayer

Hoping to gain more Time,

She’s a fickled girl

Giving Love a chase,

Though all too quickly the sands have stopped dropping for Love,

Checked in the back by cupid’s arrow 

Chasing what’s left of Time,

An hourglass unturned 

As the air grows thin without you. 

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