Roses

When you’re young, you think the future is vast. Time moves fast, but to you, age is the last thing on your mind. You think you have all the time in the world, but then the days begin to unwind. Suddenly, the hand on the clock rotates at pace, penetrating the day, pushing it backwards into the past. For every second that passes, today fades further into the distance, tomorrow becoming increasingly imminent. The sun rises, but the new day is fruitless, rendering no surprises. The night approaches, your visibility decreases, your future feels like a puzzle with too many missing pieces, leaving you hopeless. Your dreams may have turned into ashes, but we always have the hope that tomorrow will bring roses.

Matt Brown | Evolving Poet