A Writing Journey

When I woke up this morning
I thought of time.
The sun was just beginning to peek
Above the horizon
And I wanted to know if I had slept too late.
Or was it much earlier than I thought?
How much of the day had I already used up?
I think ahead
About the minutes I have before I must sit at the computer.
Will I make my bed or watch the news?
Maybe some stretching for my tired back.
Deciding what to do with the time I have.
How many minutes until I must change my plan?
There are only so many minutes in a day.
Every day, it is the same.
But the minutes these days seem to linger.
They seem to have multiplied in a way
That makes it more challenging to face.
But it is not a doom or dread that faces me
More like hope and dreams of what could be.
Time has not multiplied for me
It has simply slowed down because
I notice more and I have no one expecting me.
With only myself to answer to
What is this voice saying?
Is it being kind and soothing?
Do I treat myself with compassion and understanding?
The time I see today brings promise but also procrastination.
I wait.
I am free to decide when to move.
What to do.
I watch the minutes pass. 
I watch with attention
To how I feel and the thoughts that enter my mind.
How am I relating to the time I have?
Do I befriend it or berate it?
Can I embrace it and not erase it?
With every pause, the moments pass.
Pause again but try to make the moment last
Longer
And longer.
Breathe in. 
Exhale.
The moment has passed.
But I feel better now.
Time has not escaped me.
I have become the time I tried to tame.
Time is mine and I am time.