Hourglass

She stares at him through glass
Through his soul, through her tears.
A silhouetting oak
On horizon 'cross the field.
All life has left him, She's thankful for their time.
There's nothing looking forward.
The past, forlorn, entwines.
A breeze rolls by so sweetly, Infused with buttercup.
Words we find, not jewels to shine - our time just not enough.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the artwork and the poem. I agree with your thoughts. Never enough time for the things we need to do. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poem.
Coyote