each day is a poem the hours spell each a chance for peace within ourselves every line’s an opportunity for eyes without a bruise but opportunities passed on just pass on through time lost is a short road to regret looking back is all a moment wasted begets
I can’t reach the clock to turn back the hands I can’t reach back and have the time again when did I become so unsighted to today when did I start to shove my spirit away when did I become so anger-torn and frayed when I forgot the pains that cut like a knife,
how regret and anger can burn a life
each day is a love song of a heart feeling well each a love story the moments tell every word a chance for our selves to be soothed but opportunities shunned just slide on through time wasted is a long fall into regret longing for the moments lost and squandered and spent
I want to reach the clock to turn back the hands I want to turn the glass and return the sands when did I become so naive to the gift of today when did I start to throw opportunities away when I forgot the pains that have been my strife,