The clock ticked louder, urging the leap,
In a rush to grasp, I sowed what I reap.
Moments discarded, like leaves in the storm,
What once was a spark now feels so forlorn.

Regret weighs heavy, a shroud I wear,
The echoes of choices that haunt the air.
For in my haste, I let go of the light,
And now in the silence, I mourn the night.

With every heartbeat, a longing to mend,
The ties that unravelled, the dreams that won’t bend.
Yet in this sorrow, a lesson is clear—
In the art of patience, we hold what is dear.