Time is a river,

swiftly running from our clumsy attempts

to capture it.

Decisions in life chisel and erode our souls

and mold us into who we become.

Every so often we branch off to distant lands,

reaching strangers,

and we are the source of life to desperate, arid souls.

Desperate ourselves,

we pan the water's deep, and if the time is right,

we find bits of gold.

Treasure those blissful moments, for gold, too, will slip away.

And, all we can do is remember them, before we carry on.