weary days

one less hour of my life
sucked away,
      as the count said to Westley
so how is that saving me anything?
the sand's already running through
my clenched fists
      the hourglass beyond repair
the faces around me behind windshields
lined with smiles that don't quite reach
from lash to lash
and i wonder what i'm saving
      less, rest, less, dreams
the sun rises regardless of the race
regardless of the hands that try to grasp it
i measure time but is it really measuring me?
it marches relentlessly
days stuffed full of doing, busy
     are those hours i want back?
"my heart is aging i can tell,"
as Rich sings my heartstrings
let these burdened days become wings
let me learn again how to sing
though hard pressed on every side
let me find a way to say
    "as You wish"