A Release of Time

In the quiet moments of my past,

I think of what will last.

The future is a known mystery,

one I wish I knew like history.

What scares me isn’t the setting sun,

it’s the way that time runs.

Dancing around me like the seasons,

It changes its reasons,

prolonging a dreadful winter,

Or a humid summer,

we’re stuck with like a splinter.

Time does as it pleases,

keeping its grip on us; with no sign of release.