Dear Time

Dear Time,
I thought you a thief at first; I was angry at the small things you've taken.
But I understand now, I really do, and I think you need them more than me.
A wish here, a coping mechanism there...
How could I begrudge you these things when you have given me so much?
A freshly picked flower, a burning sunrise,
Like fine sand through my fingers--details that I no longer recall
You are always there; you just won't let me go.
A generous and jealous lover you are, it seems...
You give and take from us all.