Time is passing me by.
It flies into the past, around the city without lights.
It flies to the heart of the village, a whole of pure stars in the sky.
Every day,
As I walk down the path of memories, time passes with me.
It flies under challenging days full of sadness and misery.
It reaches the breaking point of my tolerance for depression.
Occasionally,
Time with me revolves around my warmest maternal feelings.
Sometimes,
Time passes with me deep into my knowing, void of colour.
However, I sit still with time today,
Counting my blessings: one, two, three, four...
Shahla Latifi
January, 2024