As always, time slips by when I'm not looking.
It tip toes past me to dance with them.
They're living it, while I'm trying -and failing- to manage it.
Some leaves have begun to fall.
"it's still august!" I yell at them,
but they don't listen. They're busy,
busy with the matters of life and death,
like listening to the wind and saving fairies.
I miss them... even though they are right in front of me.
I often feel like they too are slipping by, dancing away into another world different from mine,
while I'm busy looking after the noise in the middle,
yelling at them to let me focus on things that melt and disappear right before my very eyes.
They look at me bewildered, not understanding, yet forgiving me for my shortcomings.
I know that the days when I have to beg them to leave me alone are counted,
and then it will be me begging for broken bits of their filled-with-noise time.