He found happiness
and it felt like sand
slipping through his fingers.
His fear of dust covered grounds
and the prospects of a hand
only covered by traces of yesterday
caused his limbs to rattle till the boulder fell
to the grove of his hands, and the dust took flight
till his vision was lost.
These were the thoughts that kept him awake.
And the smell that drowned out his memories.
Now tomorrow would never be.
Arms have stopped trembling.
His fear painted a dust covered ground through
vision blurred by irritated pupils
and doused in dust accentuated tears.
Palm-filled with yesterday, gradually
washed by the crashing of long travelling tears.
His heart dreaded tomorrow.
Sentry on duty, he kept today,
with all the flavones of her hair
and the tickles of her fingers.
He shut tight his palm.
Tomorrow is inevitable he whispered
though his fist.