When we were richer time was spent simply and always side by side just as minute would follow minute. The windswept paths were to us as soft as earth and exactly as long as we wished them to be, walking the hours hand in hand. Days passed, and days passed – because we could afford it we spent every possible moment with each other. Our conversations were longer: eloquence and silence were luxuries, meant for the passing of time.
But now we are poor. Watch as the leaves trickle by. We scavenge, scrimp and scramble together. I want to hold you but time is in the way. Stung, I search for seconds. Things fade. These are the memories we save. Touch me. Hold my hand; there are a few more moments in them.