Time's Too Much Poem by Sally Sandler

Death arrived, and time's too much—
where before there wasn't time
to say I love you near enough—
now I stare, and wonder why

there's so much empty time. I see
the clock beside the bed has stopped,
and time's asleep, or numb, like me …
as if in shock from being robbed,

the endless void left by another
filled with darkness. Too much ocean
waits to drown me, waits to smother.
Having time is not the potion

once sustaining, once a precious
spring that bubbled from the ground.
Yesterday, we tried to stretch it
wide, a river wrapped around,

but today, each day's too long
and night's too wide, a river swollen.
Every minute limps along...
the steady drift of time is stolen.