The Sunlit Hour

The golden hour, a fleeting, sunlit grace, It isn't slipped, like sand through trembling hands. Wings are unfurled to find rightful place, Where joy awaits, in far and vibrant lands. The rose that blooms, today, may fade tomorrow, So scent is drunk to cherish every hue. Doubts are cast off to banish each sorrow, For time, once lost, returns to none of you. The whispers rise, of moments yet to seize, The vibrant pulse, of life's enchanting song. The now is embraced to find cheer and release, To dance with fate, where you have longed so long. No more regret, your precious moments steal, To live each breath, with passion's burning fire. The present's gift, is all that's truly real, Seizing the day, letting your soul aspire. ©bfa022825