Another for the ‘One Day’ prompt.
One day is no more than a number,
That is marked by the hands on a clock,
And tomorrow will never be longer,
Than the yesterdays of which we forgot.
We have twenty four hours to ponder,
If the path we have travelled is true,
Or perhaps the road over yonder,
Is the place where we live life anew.
So few precious minutes of memories,
Of love and of life and of laughter,
Where we grieve for lost possibilities,
And we search for our long ever after.
Seconds they go in the blink of an eye,
Just moments in time that we miss,
Like the fluttering wings of a butterfly,
Or the touch of hot breath in a kiss.
For one day is no more than a number,
And life is just the counting of time.
A conundrum to solve before slumber,
And a mountain we mortals must climb.