*Photo is my own*
time stretches
like a fragile thread
as I sit alone
on this weathered bench
in these moments
of suspended existence
I find myself caught
between the past and present
the ticking of the clock
becomes a resounding echo
amplifying the echoes
of my thoughts
each second
a drop in the hourglass
falls with a measured cadence
and I wait patiently
for the arrival of that someone
who promises
to breathe life into my silence
The Creative Chic 
Beautiful…I miss having the hope you describe. Very well written Jennifer
Maybe you could find it once again, big hugs for you. Thank you so much. I sure hope you’re well.
Nah, I’m okay without it lol. Vulnerability is an old enemy
I can understand that, it isn’t easy most of the time.
Indeed
Wow! So love this!! Love the “in between” poems!! Love those and the magic and fantasy that can happen between the tics and tocs (my favorite place to be). Bellissimo, My Dear, Bellissimo!!! 😊😁💖💕🌹
Love how you play with time here. Beautifully done.
Thank you, Bridgette