Sifting Sand
September 28, 1997
By: Kim Adams
Sifting sand.
Through my fingers it falls to the ground.
Slowly, so slowly more drifts from my fingers.
Crystaline bits, sharp as glass bite and scrape my skin.
Layer upon layer it's stripped away.
I reach down gathering up the grains of sand.
Some I can return to my hand, others blend into the ground.
Forever gone from me,
Never to be found again.
But within my hands I hold onto as many grains as I can.
Until they begin to sift again.
This page was created on January 14, 1999
This page was last updated on January 14, 1999
©Copyright 1998 Kim Adams
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