Ticking
We are fragile.
With soft brain cortexes,
Spongy skin,
Paper-thin lungs,
A mortal heart,
That ceases to pump eventually,
Like time bombs,
Ticking away,
We tick through time and space,
Through endless experiences,
Through joyful birthdays,
And darkest funerals,
Through lonely days,
And carefree laughter,
Through bitter coffees,
And sweet apple pies,
Through moments of sunshine,
And tough decisions,
Through sunny Junes,
And rainy Octobers,
Through childhood dreams
And future plans,
Until?
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