Measure of Time copyright 1978 by Tracy Marks Once I would measure time only when alone for the eyes with whom I shared myself needed no measuring. I would apportion each moment in advance, living each one fully, loving each face I knew far more. but now in the stillness of the afternoon, my watchband frayed, the memories soft and fragile in my mind, I hesitate to touch each sharp, each poignant moment, afraid to find upon my wrist a broken crystal.

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