Inside Joke

Time feels like an inside joke

And I’ve been left out.

Snickering behind my back

I feel like a fool. 

You crawl

when I beg you to sprint.

You race

when I’m out of breath,

dying to pin you down.

Let me claw my way back

to my son’s not yet jaded eyes 

staring up at me,

milk dripping down his chin.

To my daughter, marveling

at the snail’s shiny trail

on the pavement.

Transport me to the simple moments.

How I wish

I could skip the pain

of watching my dad’s hair disappear,

and my husband’s patience wear thin?

The hourglass: a trickster.

This moment the sand,

slipping through, impossible to grasp.

And as soon as it’s gone,

I’m desperate for it back.

The way you twist my reality,

makes me question

how long it’s been

since I last felt

the electricity of hungry touch.

And how long it will be

Until I miss

this precise moment.