Time

Time is beautiful, 

A figment of our imagination or not, 

It passes as it wishes, 

Fast then slow, through your wading fingertips

A burst of movement 

Right before a slow crawl

Time heals and that is beautiful, 

Slowly painting layers over once raw wounds

She lays glistening medicinal sap along your back

And your scrape is transformed 

You catch a glimpse of yourself - over your shoulder

Perhaps when you throw some salt over the left side

And it is gone, fresh skin, glowing and hopeful

Stronger too

Has taken its place in the destiny of your freckled skin

Mapped out before birth,

Each hiccup of melanin planned and carefully placed

By the decisive hand of The Universe

Time will tell where the map will take you, 

Which sun rays will have their way with you,

Where the wounds will be inflicted and how they'll heal 

But they will heal, 

Because time is beautiful and she is on your side

At your side

Fingers intertwined 

She has your back

And a forest full of tree sap