Poem: Lost in Time

I drift where hours forget to be,
a wanderer washed by memory’s tide—
footsteps echo soft and free
in corridors where moments hide.

The clocks lie still, their faces thin,
like moons that never learned to glow;
I touch their hands and fall within
a hush no waking mind can know.

Old laughter shivers through the dust,
a lantern swinging in the past;
it flickers with a fragile trust
that even shadows cannot last.

Yet somewhere in this silent maze,
a heartbeat steadies next to mine—
a whisper through the drifting haze:
not all who wander, lose their time.

Thank-you for reading.

Remember there are many paths back to God.

Follow your own path,

Brenda Marie