Time dances alongside me,
clumsy in his movements,
sometimes moving too fast
and other times moving too slow.

Yet he does not quit dancing,
and I am unable to escape his embrace
though I try and try to wiggle free,
desperate for Time to just stop.

I started as a child,
Time looming over me,
his every movement so long,
too slow for me to bear it.

As I grew, I felt his pace quickening,
though sometimes he stalled
just when I was desperate for the speed,
but always, always dancing.

Now he clutches me tighter,
dragging me across this wooden
dance floor I never asked to dance upon,
so smooth and hard to stay balanced on.

I beg him to stop, to let me breathe
because now I just need Time to be slow, be still,
but he ignores me. Time keeps dancing, faster,
faster than I want.

My life is slipping away before I can live it,
childhood vanishing like the steam from bubble baths.
The future coming faster than I can prepare for it,
an earthquake? a disaster?

No. Time is dancing faster, but my feet keep up.
I do not stumble. I do not fall. I am as nimble as he,
as graceful, as eager as he.
Time is dancing quickly, but I dance with him.

I am unafraid.