The keeper of time, merciless scoundrel,
has spoken again, capturing another shard of my life.
Ripped out of my mind with a victorious smile
and added to his expanding collection,
he thrives on the past I have to leave behind.
A greedy fat spider, he sits in patience watching
from the middle of his sophisticated net
for the next hapless moment to stumble and fall victim
to the clasping strings of this silken trap.
He carefully stores them in fragile glass urns,
meticulously labelled with places and names
to grant effortless access and a fast retrieval
when his quenchless hunger for my memories calls.
He savours my heartaches in tiny morsels,
relishing the salty flavour of my tears.
He feeds on my follies and devours my sins
with greedy haste, in impatient anticipation of more.
I ward him off, interrupting his steady advance
by keeping my memories close to my heart.
But Mistress Time is capricious and fading is imminent,
so he reclines unperturbed, certain of my failure,
assured of his triumph, content to wait.