Time Flies

In my dream, I met Time.
Time was a woman with long grey hair and skin as soft and supple as a peach.
Her eyes were bloodshot, as though sore from crying, yet she wore an expression of frank indifference. Her clothes were torn and grubby, but their colours were of majestic golds and peacock blues, their texture rich and striking.
Time had wings of pure silver, streaked with black.
They were strong wings, I could tell.
I walked towards her, inhaling a strange scent as I drew closer; the smell of earth after rain, of something warm and comforting I could not decipher, and of dust- all merging to form an unlikely perfume that lingered and hovered around her.
Puzzled, I tried to meet her eyes, but could not.
I could see their redness, but nothing more; no expression, no communication. I could not tell if she minded my presence. If she cared for me or not. She did not seem happy or sad.
She spread her wings and began to fly, slowly and with easy grace. As she flew, the sun rose. The sky was illuminated with warm yellow light and birds began to sing. I could hear dove pigeons and blackbirds, sparrows and rooks.
The ground beneath my feet sprouted grass and flowers; daffodils and daisies.
I could make out the ghost of a path which I followed, curiously. A wonderful meadow was forming around me; all manner of creatures began to appear- rabbits and deer, mice and foxes. The sky was as blue as a forget-me-not.
Then the brightness of the daylight softened and faded into twilight, and the moon had dominion over the skies. Owls hooted and I heard the rustlings of nocturnal animals nearby. The air was cool.
I could see Time some way ahead, floating onwards silently, spectre- like, her great skirts billowing out behind. The rhythm of my breathing became hypnotic; inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
The night became day, the day became night.
Some days were grey and dull. Sometimes the nights were a vision of stars.
I saw the seasons change around me. Spring shifted into Summer; a glorious overture of roses in bloom, marigolds and butterflies. I felt excitement, wonder. I could hear the laughter of children playing in the distance. I longed for a moment, to turn back and to join them, but I knew I could not. I walked on, strong and capable.
Summer faded into Autumn; trees shocking in their transformation, bright hues of reds and orange, and a bittersweet scent began to claw at my senses.
I felt childlike yet maternal. I clutched at the hope still dancing within my heart, yet I felt suddenly consumed by loss.
I grew colder and colder. The days were shorter, the nights harder.
"Winter!" I cried, "Oh, Winter, be kind!"
Snow fell, white and perfect- frighteningly so.
Walking was making me weary; my feet ached and I could think of nothing but sleeping. My very bones creaked.
I ground to a halt.
Out of the corner of my weakening eye, I could make out the wings of Time; unchanged and slipping from my reach.
I called out, faintly.
But Time did not wait for me.