Poems for a Rainy Day

I hope you see the beauty in your time.

The time on the clock is achingly slow,

yet so anxiously fast. 

I see the seconds hand slowly tick,

mocking me. 

Mocking my decisions and my mistakes. 

The clock strikes 2 am,

another sleepless night. 

It's kind of sad how I can only sleep now with someone else in the room-

someone who can reassure me that I am still here and breathing. 

I stare at the clock on my wrist,

as my arm rests on my stomach. 

Time is such a crazy concept. 

It's amazing, 

and beautiful and 

absolutely,

terrifying. 

And to think,

some people take it for granted- 

or even worse:

Don't want any more time. 

-Sarah Klobuchar