Hourglass, Hourglass,
I see my reflection,
And my gaze in your glass.
You are perfection,
Tell time to your last.

I feel anxious as I turn you over, to start.
I feel pressured and nervous,
As you drop and tell and time.
For I know you do not lie.
Immortal and prime.

O! Timekeeper!
Your impending time,
How true and taunting,
You count sublime,
Leaves me wanting,

For when it reaches the end,
My sickened feeling rests.
Slightly, O' feeling of condescension.
And now all the sand is at the extent.
Now I feel empty.

I stop.
Again.
I turn you over; you pour.
You mock me.

If, my little, aching Timepiece,

If I knock you off the table,
You will shatter and crumble,
And all of your sand will scatter.
In swirled patterns on the floor.


And I will have no reason to feel,
To force,
To be,
Anxious any more of you,

Hourglass, my hourglass.