Seven at night alone inside of a coffee shop

Silent enough to hear my silver pen drop 

Staring at an incandescent bulb on a wood top

Sipping almond milk mixed with date syrup.

A golden hourglass that ridicules my luck with love

She flew away from my hands like a white dove

Walked through the door without a final shove

Praying I never see her when I look above.

If love was like an hourglass

I’d securely admire the sand plummet

Each grain quickly filling the empty brass

Eventually building time’s summit.

If love was like an hourglass

I’d constantly flip the instrument over

Ensuring that our time limit will never pass

Ending the sinful desire for closure.

If love was like an hourglass

I’d fail to treasure it with a gentle hold

Exemplifying the dire need to take a Gottman class

Except we allowed the floor to turn the sand cold.