Beating Transience

The hands I held,

Ticked away with the hands of the clock.

And I waited in vain,

For clocks to tick back.

Treasures for which I travailed,

Oozed its way out.

And I tried fruitlessly

To seize the slippery silver.

The children I bore,

Flew apart on the wings of time.

And I gazed dolefully,

At the strangers my love had bore.

Verse I fashioned,

Lay cradled in my heart,

Merging with its fragments,

Beating notes of transience.