so full at times,
Even all the spaces in-between.
A fullness that inundates every crevice.
This too will pass.
Soft skin to folds of leathery lines,
Strong steady hands to trembling decline.
Golden locks to un-kept silver strands.
While filled with too much, still insatiable.
Do not grow weary of your busy day,
Soon those spaces will empty.
Our companion and our adversary,
Will pause for you.
Soon, that which it gifted will be taken back,
And this world will continue without you.