ears stretching into the darkness seeking the soothing patter of raindrops upon the roof, hoping their rhythm will bring rest to a restless mind; a comfortable backdrop for dreaming
I am the broken promise
of what might have been
and the desperate hope
of what could still be;
nothing is written
with such permanence
it cannot be altered
by a willingness to change;
the clock continues to count time,
until it stops
there will always be a chance
to become more
