It was 11.59 a moment before
       the afternoon of our lives.
But a finite moment of seconds
                  can collect on regrets.

What if I had told you the life story
of midday reflections was momentary.
I was nothing before you walked on the  
                                                          d­oorstep
of my heart, rubbing feelings on my heart.

Alas time will wonder on seconds
                       of inconsistent faults.
     Within those frail moments our
future was a shattered reflection below.

You were mine before midday, I'll hold
        every second before the moments past.
     Reflections of moments I'll collect,
      but I know after midday your just a memory.