Just a minute...

I watch the beads slowly float past,
Their globule forms glistening gently
Under the harsh spotlight.
Time is running out for them.
They collect at the end.
They rush out at first,
A race that mixes their tiny, seperate,
Perfect forms into a
Misshapen, grotesque mass.
Eventually, they slow down.
Settle into a rhythmic pattern,
Until there is only a trickle.
A pathetic attempt at their splendour before.

The days manifest themselves as these spheres.
They turn into weeks, months, years, decades...
The days pass until my life is but a trickle.
All this.
In just a minute.