Fleeting

Fleeting is the night when I am with you.
hours seem like minutes,
minutes seem like seconds,
seconds seem like moments.
Tomorrow comes too soon.

I try with all my might to hold on to you,
as the moments turn to seconds,
seconds to minutes,
minutes to hours.
Tomorrow comes too soon.

by Warren Augustus de Guzman

Other poems of DE GUZMAN (114)

Comments (1)

Excellent from first to last. A 10+.