Fleeting Times
In the haze of tomorrow’s longing,
I search for the ghosts of moments gone.
The laughter, the tears, the whispers, the sighs,
All echoes of a past that whispers goodbye.
Why didn't I hold each instant which was like a flame?
Why didn't I cherish every whisper, every name?
I was blinded by the promise of tomorrow's light,
And neglected the beauty of the fleeting night.
My greatest regret, a heart that believed,
In a future that stole the present from me.
I traded the beauty of the here and now,
For a promise of what could be, a future somehow.
But life, it seems, is a collection of last times,
A series of goodbyes.
And I'm left to ponder, on the what-ifs and the maybes,
A heart that's heavy, with the weight of forgotten days.
So let this be my lesson, my heart's lament,
To cherish every moment, to make each one a monument.
To hold each instant close, like a precious, shining thing,
And never let the future steal the beauty of the present's wings.
