The Days
The Days
Time passes,
and I am trying to hold on…
to thin air.
It is illusive,
invisible,
and yet tangible,
in ways I can hardly explain.
Moments that I can not have back,
taken without permission.
While others,
were given away,
and wasted,
on those that did not notice,
the clock on the wall,
at all.
We can not begin again,
so we will need to start…
from here anew.
This place on the page,
this line with ink,
that will change the coarse,
of everything forward.
It is a choice,
to live a life of meaning.
It is a decision,
to be all that can be,
from what is,
and not let the outside,
win against the in.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
