I like the way the word time
feels in my mouth

how it passes tongue and lips
crisp at one end

soft and delicious
at the other

It’s a mouthful of moments

prepared by epiphany
savored by appetite

seasoned by memory and dreams
Though it may seem otherwise

there is never a wrong time
like there is never a wrong love

yet, until you’re over your past
you can never be present

You can nibble away at time
like a guest at the banquet of creation

but time is not love
Love must be swallowed whole