I’ve lost track of time
cooped in a home
a world anxious 
yet everyone still
What is time
but a strange bedfellow
one minute short
the next infinite 
I try to quantify 
a tick of a hand
a pulse of heart
she slows the hand
she speeds the heart
seconds slip through fingers
she sinks in synapses lingers
time is slick
she is sticky
like salt water taffy 
sweet and sour
a timeless treat treasured
moments of her graphed
labyrinth of synapses to cells 
nodes to nooks
a moving portrait 
pursued in shallow focus
nothing but time lost
she emerges the locus 
daylight bleeds to twilight
a clock made useless 
gears stuck
kneading but bound 
a salty saccharine glue
sweet is the memory
sour is the stick

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