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Time
December 4, 2018
Times like these are like all others's around me: everchanging.
Seconds pass, mininutes pass, years pass, all wasted.
Regret consumes me, along with a longing.
A longing to remember, a longing to love, a loning to be loved.
All of this time wasted that I could have remembered, I could have loved, I could have been loved.
No. What could all of these regrets of wasted time mean now?
Life moves onward, time moves onward, uncaring of those who fall back.
I must move onwars, and so I, like the seasons shall pass.
© Mitra G., Boulder, CO
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The reason that this poem is so short is because I wanted to communicate that life is fleeting. Life should not be spent thinking of all of the things that we could have done. Instead, spend it thinking, "What can I do?" "What will I do?" Then do it.