Steps echo on empty streets,
shadows stretching into futures unseen.
The clock turns,
but hands cannot grasp
what lies beyond its face.
Moments spill like water,
slipping between fingers,
filling the air with whispers
of what could be.
Eyes search the horizon,
not for answers,
but for the courage to ask
Ahead of time,
there is only the unknown,
waiting to become..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem