Time ran out

I have been reading a book called ‘Write a Collection of Poetry in a Year’ by M.V. Frankland. She encouraged the reader to write a shape poem. The poem, creating a shape, as it is written. It probably takes a bit of practice. I’m not quite there yet. Can you guess what the shape is meant to be?

Time ran out

Time ran out, for dad
His life on the edge.
He fought on. For days.
But it was not to be.
No winning the battle.
No losing the war.
No metaphors please.
He died; our dad.
He died.
No more
Pain
Suffering
Grief.
We experienced it all.
We held his hand, softly.
Stroked his hair, gently.
We said our goodbyes.
Life trickled through.
Started anew. Afresh.
Began again. Eventually.
But, without dad.

An hour glass. Well sort of!