The slow,
rythmic
ticking
of the clock
Reminds me that I have
Taken for granted...
time.

Seasons have come
and gone
With me barely noticing
Their arrival or departure.
But your arrival and departure...
THAT, I noticed.

Those were seasons that made me
Stand up and take note.
But those seasons too...pass...passed.
There seemed to never be enough time...
With you, to me--I am sorry.
And when it was over...
It seemed we'd had such a short
Time.

Time was something you always wanted
More of...
More time to yourself,
More time to work things out,
More time with your children,
More time to decide, to think--
Then suddenly the one thing
You and I did not have
Was any more
Time.

And THAT, my dear, was the one thing
You were always saying we'd have "plenty" of.
"There will be plenty of time for that", you'd say.
You told me I was "fatalistic",
Or "negative"
Or whatever...
True, perhaps...but...
In the end...
THE END.

Now I know why time with you
Seemed so urgent-- to me--
So important.
Maybe something inside of me knew
That we were running out of time.

Time is such a strange thing.
You cannot hold on to it--
No matter how hard you might try.
It keeps moving on...passing by...
Either quickly or slowly
But...passing.
I tried so very hard to hold on
To time
To you
To us
I am sorry...I am so sorry.
Please-- forgive me,
BUT...

Now I know why time with you
Seemed so urgent to me
So important.
We were
Running out
Of time.

And in the end...

THE END.

ŠL. A. Hutcherson 1998