the hourglass

I ponder the people
in the afternoon frenzy,
they dash down the sidewalk-
bumping into each other,
too much in a hurry
to murmur polite pardons.
Sensing the grains of the hourglass,
they quicken their pace,
while the rush of their blood
hastens as deadlines grow closer.
But what will they feel
when the realization strikes
that these grains,
that are finite and precious,
are few?
What of the deadlines,
so faithfully kept,
when there will be
no more giddy children to delight in,
no more passionate embraces,
no spring picnics to share with a friend,
no more Sunday afternoons graced by
windchimes and hummingbirds?
What of these deadlines then?
The sand flows
unheeded by regrets.
What more is a lifetime
than a minute too short?