Grasp

In the quiet of dusk, I reach to grasp,

The fleeting dreams that slip and rasp.

Like whispers of wind through grasping trees,

I chase elusive hopes, yearnings that tease.

Fingers stretch, seeking what's beyond,

Grasping at stars in skies despond.

In the depths of night, shadows entwine,

Grasping at memories, lost in time.

Yet in the grasp, a fragile hold,

Stories of love and tales untold.

A hand extended, reaching far,

Grasping for courage beneath each scar.

Through trials and triumphs, life's embrace,

Grasping for peace, finding grace.

Grasping for meaning in the night.

So grasp the present, hold it near,