TIME

Time does not knock
before entering my life.
It just sits beside me
quietly,
like an old friend
who knows I will not notice
until it leaves.

I have seen it
in unfinished books,
in half-written thoughts,
in dreams I said
“tomorrow” to.

Time is not fast.
It only moves.
And I am the one
standing still,
thinking I have plenty of it.

Every sunrise
writes a reminder
on the sky 
nothing waits.

Yet time is kind.
It teaches without shouting.
It heals without asking.
It changes me
without permission.

Maybe time is not running away.
Maybe it is inviting me
to walk with it 
before another page
turns
without my words on it.

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