Mishandled promises.
Precious moments unused, squandered.
Broken homes, brimming with emaciated dreams,
While time grows prosperous and fat on the bones of shattered faith.
With fondness, my eyes remember...
as if it were yesterday...
waking at the crack of dawn,
walking in the dew with my thoughts,
slowly inhaling the aroma of wildflowers,
and sipping on the scents of crisp morning air.
I can still feel the warm, relaxing breeze like a smile,
hastening to embrace me with hugs.
It was love...
my first true love.
Time flies...
but not everything changes automatically. Some things saunter,
some slip away, widowed by closing doors.
Others resist change by extending promising options.
Some grasp at straws,