tying the bow atop
an unfinished present
I am reluctant to give away
what will i have when it ends?
will days stretch longer
or will the sand fall faster?
as i lie on this bed day after day
or are the days just illusions as well?
sweating as the sun shines down
and stagnant summer air suffocates
mourning the loss of the desert sand
that's fallen through the cracks
allotted to volunteering, laughter, travel
to the east coast colleges
and their gusty winds of change
the timing, once perfect
now, the calendar in the waste bin
with plans scattered across the floor
too confusing to try to start deciphering
when all the numbers are x, y, z's
that are constantly shuffling around
how does anyone do math with letters?
it all seemed kinda manageable
in classrooms so close, yet so far
their memory engrained in me