She couldn’t remember a time

When time was hers.

Duty, guilt, and passivity-

The trifecta of moment-stealers,

Drained the hours from her days.

The lovely distractions of marriage and children made her forget

What she used to want.

And she lived as the years passed by-

It’s not that she didn’t.

But she gifted the hours to those she loved

Doing things she didn’t love.

She abided the days pursuing their dreams, while hers inhabited the dusty shelves of a different time.

And so the years had gone, and children had gone, and her will

gone.

And though people

innocently still marked her hours as theirs,

She remembered one time

When she was little

And hours didn’t matter,

And minutes were for joy.

And the best years were before her.

And she took time back.