You slither across sun-parched deserts,
wend through mossy forests,
slip between crevasses of glass and concrete

We skip together to the corner store for a soda and candy bar; 
we writhe as one, cornered in a dank, underground parking garage.

You come at us, push through us, leave us behind, then
swing back around like a Mobius strip to do it all again.

You take our hand on a warm, country afternoon
and we stroll in comfortable silence down sweet, forgotten lanes.
You cradle us in your fluid arms, whisper memories and dreams,
conjure hope and regret, satisfaction and despair.

We have too much of you, or not enough.
We bless you and curse you, and all the while,
your ineffable presence is steadfast, 
defining our very lives.

If you have taught me anything, it’s this: 
you should not be taken for granted;
if I fight you, I will lose; 
if I embrace you, I will find peace.

     Time waits for no one.
     Time marches on. 
     Time is on my side…

So many misconceptions we have about you.
It's no wonder we continue to waste you. 

It’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)!

Day Sixteen prompt from NaPoWriMo.net: write a poem in which you describe something that cannot speak, and what it has taught or told you.