Second

Tick.

No tock to follow

from a clock with one hand

and no sense of timing at all.

The eternities held

within that sound held hearts heavy,

waiting for the minute sounds in between,

the click and whirr of nanoseconds

that mean life can still go on.

A body caught in so small a grain of time,

falling through the glassy curvatures

quicker than imagination,

 as fleeting as dreams,

Briefly beautiful

for all of a second.

(This beautiful image is by Christopher Ryan -check out his blog here : http://cdryan.com/blog/our-love-is-an-hourglass/)

This poem was written as a response to the wonderful Writing Workshop prompts over on one of my favourite blogs, Sleep is for the Weak.