I pray God grant me the proficiency
to make time with you last longer;
insight to use it wisely;
and knowledge to cauterise buds of doubt
before they flower into regrets.
But if time granted me more time,
I would be brazenly selfish.
I would slow its stride and take it firmly by the hand.
Every thought I ever thought,
and every feeling I ever felt would be openly expressed.
I would not only follow my dreams, but I would also lead them.
I would live every micro moment gleefully and without hesitation.
I would take much longer walks along the river;
lie on wet grass, with the sun striking my eyes and kissing my face.
I would saunter a bit longer on parked benches
and watch time sneak past my eyes with the stealth of birds.
I would make breakfast linger past lunchtime
and have dinner stretch into breakfast.
My hands would reach out more for your hands
to talk about the simple things.
I would relish more the soothing warmth of silence
and refrain from filling it with words.
Silence, I now know allows thoughts to dream and marinate
and for serenity to find its inner footing.
I would touch the quiet laughter in your voice
and hold the smiles that decorate your face.
I would take many more pictures with my eyes’ camera
and store them on the hard drive of my mind
to retrieve when you are not around.
Because I understand that time, though generous, is fleeting.
Special moments, though bountiful,
can quickly retreat into the rearview looking glass of time,
leaving loads of shoulda-woulda-couldas.
Hence, if I could pocket more time with you,
I would be unashamedly selfish.
I would make time my prisoner.