Borrowed Time (Poetry)

Every time she thinks of him
the wound reopens —
bleeds more sadness.
Grief builds like interest
adding to the sum
until it feels the debt
can never in this life
be fully paid.

Love was a borrowed thing
spent with generosity and joy
for emotion can’t be saved
but is for sharing —
so they invested in the here and now —
threw pennies in fate’s fountain
hardly valued youth and thought
they surely owned the world.

But time has sent the bailiffs in
and death has claimed
him as collateral
against their long-term happiness.
She bears the sudden loss alone
ekes out the barren days
counting every lucky year they had
safe in the credit zone.