literature

Time/Hope

literature

writings

thoughts

Life can show its colors true,

When you're not thinking, it shines through.

Walking down the street one day,

I wondered if it was now or yesterday.

They say beauty's in the beholder's eye,

But all I see is the river, wet and nigh.

Just beyond the horizon's reach,

I can see the river moving with ease.

Is it love or just seduction,

That draws the river to the bridge in construction?

I see the sun staring at the bridge,

Is it envy or unrequited love that it cannot ditch?

As the sun sets, darkness looms,

It looks at me, waiting to consume.

On the brink of oblivion's call,

A flicker of hope, a light so small.

Is this the same hope that made me walk,

Down this road, with a skip and a hop?

The same hope that makes the sun rise,

And the day's revelations come alive.

Does time stand by as a friend,

Giving us the courage to confess in the end?

Or is time a hopeless wanderer,

Whispered the wind, mournful and somber.