There's a time and place,
for the things, we face the struggle to keep things real.
The pain it came, only to tame,
the wound that would not heal.
The time that goes, seems too slow,
the months that passed too quick.
The heartache grows, for what once was known,
our thoughts now focused on home.
Where is home, when time has shown
that the months move much too quick.
And when our eyes, rest on the prize,
we fall upon buckets of sand.
(What is this?)
YOU ARE READING
Handle with Care
PoetryA compilation of poetry that describes love, loss and hardship.
