Written by Charly Chow
I lost a poem last night
somewhere between three and five am,
it whispered all promise-scented
“wake up, don’t lose me”
as I slipped back to sleep.
This morning his embrace
painted passion on my skin,
sent light skittering to places it healed
“can we stop time?” he murmured
as the moment shifted into gone.
Tonight we puddle into the sofa
little legs restless against aching ones,
popcorn, puppy hugs and old new movies
“just a bit longer?” my six year old pleads as we peel ourselves apart.
Sometimes I wonder if heaven is time
to write, to love, to connect,
moments slip through the neon hourglass
as we anticipate tomorrow,
savouring and squandering breaths.
.
Charly Chow is a neurodivergent poet, spoken word artist, and storyteller from London, UK. She lives in a quiet place with her endlessly patient partner, noisy six-year-old son, and two fluffy little dogs. When she’s not making up things for a living, she’s enjoying other people’s art and playing video games. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram: @whatcharlywrote