My morning coffee urges me outside.
To sit on the deck.
To watch the birds.
To feel your warm, gentle breeze.
To capture your tender, fleeting moments.
It seemed, that as a child sitting behind a rickety old school desk, you shuffled along like an old man. And I felt bored and restless and wishing you would hurry up so I could go home and play.
And at the work place I was always daydreaming.
Always hoping for a better tomorrow.
Always hurrying you along.
But, that was a long time ago.
When I thought I had you locked in a box.
When I Thought I was forever in control.
Now, it seems you barely peep your blazing head above the horizon when you’re pulling down the dark shade of night. When, like a fleeting bird, you fly and disappear into the abyss, never to be seen again.
And I realize that you hold the key to the box.
That I must never again take you for granted.
That I must grasp your every fleeting moment for as long as I shall live.