the june that got away

Some days
I want to stop time.
And pause.

One blink
one day.
Another day
another memory.

I try to take it all in.
Hold it in and close to my heart.

The sand
slips
through my fingers.

And no matter how I try to catch it
or make it stop
it continues to fall
to the beach.

The sand will never be the same.
To pick it up
again
will never be the same.

New
and different.

But always sand.