Distracting myself,
busy all day,
cannot accept another day lost to
time.

Time—
the old enemy,
yet friend,
it makes me a day older
yet wiser.

Another day of my life is
gone.
Past.

But I know that I did something that day;
I did not sit around,
waiting
waiting
waiting
for it to pass, and
waiting
waiting
waiting for the next day to come.

I read
wrote
learned
asked questions
and went outside to the park
in that day.

So maybe it is worth being another day
older,
another second older—
not that it’s my choice anyway.

I’ll enjoy it,
I’ll love it,
and I will not look back.