Time in a bottle

A poem based on the Jim croce song time in a bottle

If I Could Save Time in a Bottle

If I could save time in a bottle,
I’d trap every laugh that we shared,
Seal up the nights when our worries were few,
And moments we knew that we cared.

If I could save time in a bottle,
I’d guard every tear that we cried,
Not out of pain, but for memories made,
With you always there by my side.

If I could save time in a bottle,
I’d pour in the warmth of your smile,
The way that you stayed when the world felt too big,
And sat with me quiet awhile.

If I could save time in a bottle,
I’d open it just now and then,
To breathe in the past when you felt close enough
To make me believe once again.

If I could save time in a bottle,
I’d whisper the prayers left unsaid,
The ones I once mumbled beneath tired breath,
Alone in the silence I bled.

If I could save time in a bottle,
I’d ask why He lets good things fade,
Why hearts have to break just to learn how to love,
And joy always feels like a trade.

If I could save time in a bottle,
I’d hold all the faith I once knew,
Before the world hardened the softest parts,
And shadows disguised what was true.

If I could save time in a bottle,
I’d offer it up to the skies,
To see if God listens when hearts fall apart,
Or if tears just vanish like lies.

If I could save time in a bottle,
I’d keep all the love we let go,
To ask Him if souls that are meant to be one
Still find one another below.

I saved all my time into bottles,
Each one with a moment I knew,
That even in pain, there was something to hold—
A flicker, a fragment, a truth.

I saved all my time into bottles,
Lined up on the shelves of my mind,
Some covered in dust, some cracked at the seams,
Still echoing all I can’t find.

I saved all my time into bottles,
In hopes it would somehow make sense,
But the years only teach what the silence has known—
That healing and hurt are both dense.

I saved all my time into bottles,
To keep hope from slipping away,
Though it cuts like a blade and it hides like a thief,
It’s the one thing I cannot betray.

I saved all my time into bottles,
Not because it gets easy or fair,
But because if I lose it—the hope, thin as thread—
There’s nothing but empty air.