Out of Reach

What shapes the morning? We emerge out of the darkness into a dawn taking shapes from the shadows to build a world around us. We wait here, hidden under sheets, waiting for tomorrow to turn into today and now. What was too far out of reach ever to touch comes creeping in through these curtains to become another day, as the time we had becomes yesterday and slips far out of reach into the past.

We only ever have now and now always slips away, out of reach into the past, beyond our reaching fingers. Time moves away from us as it moves towards us. Always evading capture and letting each moment evade our hands as we reach out. Only wanting to take and hold a precious moment, making it last forever.

All we have are memories. A remembrance of the way your hand reached and your fingers touched. A fleeting instance that was gone before I could give it a name and reach out to grasp it, knowing only that it will never come again.

All we have is the hope and the promise of more times to come like this. Even though we know they will never be the same. We know that luck and happenstance could tear it all apart before we have a chance for another time like this. Leaving this times gone and too far out of reach to ever hold again.