Trickle of Sand

I lowered my chest onto the woven wool rug beside the low credenza, where a small wooden hourglass lay resting on its side upon the oak floorboards. A loose silk ribbon was trailing across my path, so I took two slow, wide steps around it to yield the floor. Drawing near the twin glass bulbs, I extended my long neck forward with patient calm. With the smooth edge of my lower jaw, I gently nudged the timber base until the frame tipped upright. Inside, a narrow stream of pale white sand began to fall... grain by grain... murmuring softly in the still room. I rested my chin against the upper rim, watching time slip quietly away under the lamplight.