The truth is"
it never came"
But The Mornings opened
well the nights closed.
Everything had peddles
And I in between
But not a single Rose.
Everything had turn into thorns.
Then the day became ocean
The sun had a choice,
it could stay all day
if it wanted
and yet nothing would bloom.
And not once was anything far away
And still Not even an image of a rose.
I was in middle and everything riddled
fading like noon things began.
Time running forward
And nothing will never come soon.
So my journey for me found no room.
I watched Everything still as I moved
but no rose.! To keep me close
So I folded and finally let go.
And everything that you can fit in a second
Now also fit it in a thought.
before anything was taken
Nothing was mine.
It Was enough memories for time.
I wonder we're the present became future
Because I'm gone but why a my rooming.