The sands of time

Like a carpenter,

whittling away at a

piece of wood,

that's how the seconds and

minutes of today ran away with me.

I felt at times I was standing watching

the sand run through an hour glass.

With meteoric speed.

Work,

then errands,

home,

tea,

work.

How can we find time to squeeze

the words of the day

into a few paragraphs here?

I took off my reading glasses and laid them on

my book, and looked out at the

promise of spring.

Thought back over the day now almost gone.

Sands

of

time