Irony.

Foggy yet conspicuous;
Shattered yet held together.
Arms of the same human.
One palm, holds in it, what it already has.
Time flows by , the palm is filled still.
Another fancy dream comes along.
The second hand runs to hold it.
The other filled palm, loses what it had,
and it falls down.
Perhaps what is taken for granted ,
may leave us and go.
But nature has a way with irony.
Irony of its own kind.
The precious of the previous day,
has fallen, yet remained, where it was.
Awaiting, for this hand to come,
back again and enthrone it.

-Alisha