Ours for Hours
By S. L. Lipson
The top of my hourglass,
filled with the promise of
densely packed, precious family moments
only two weeks ago,
has emptied now,
like my nest.
Sparkling grains streamed too quickly
through the narrow passage called “winter break,”
and with a sad whoosh,
settle into the bulbous base
as memories,
while my kids resettle into their
homes away from Home.
And I wait for the next rotation
of our glass.
I know exactly how you feel. The words empty nest connotes a vision of dried twiggs and radom feather to me. I guess there are people out there who relish an empty nest, I am not one of them. Parenting is hard at times but my children have brought me so much joy! The hourglass is reset...
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