By Rodney Alan Brubaker
Wouldn't it be cool to have time in a glass.
I could tilt it one way and head to my past.
Or watch it pour down as my life drifted by.
Just to turn it back over, right before I die.
And if each piece of sand was a sweet memory.
I'd break open the base to set them all free.
But if they were all with me, well then I might find.
There'd be no way of knowing the passage of time.
Copyright ©2003 Rodney Alan Brubaker