Time, Or The Lack Thereof

You watch, helpless, as time passes you by

Dressed in sheer petticoats of Seconds

And overskirts of Minutes

Swathed in a swirling cloak of silken Hours

You watch her dance past you

Gracefully in circles, never missing a beat

You try to catch hold of her, grabbing at her waist

But she prances away from you, a smile playing at her lips

Slipping through your outstretched fingers like a breeze

And where she once was, she can no longer be seen

You are left yearning for what she once was

Resenting her, yourself, the world for what she is

Fearful of what she may be tomorrow

After all, how much of herself will she offer up to you?

Author's Note: Written on the back of a Sanskrit question paper, rather dear to me, this one.

Earlier this week a 23 year old intern, a paramedic, was gang raped in a chartered bus. She's got no intestines anymore, she's on a ventilator and she's fighting for her life. Pray for her, please.

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