Dear Past,
I recall thy memory vividly.
The memory of a love,
a youthful passion
that truly could not last.
We seized the day, we ate
the strawberries, enjoying
every mouthful, bittersweet -
but as they say,
all good things must come to an end.
Now thou art silent, frozen
as a still photograph, and yet
the colour still remaineth
vibrant as the setting sun.

Dear Present,
I lie here, barren from thy scars.
The aftermath of a love
turned into loathing
that wounds me even still.
Away from thee, I run
as hard as I can run, considering
my feeble condition, for
as thou said,
all good things must come to an end.
Now I am lost and frozen
in the midst of a storm, and yet
I must go on, that I may live again,
to chase the setting sun.

Dear Future,
I see thee rise in the horizon.
The prophecy of a love
of great potential
that slowly draweth near.
The more I am acquainted with thy
presence, the more my pain
subsides to gentle warmth - and yet
I fear that this
may end before it could begin.
Now I stand silent, frozen
waiting for the truth, and yet
thou beckon'st me not to fret, to focus instead
my gaze upon the slowly rising sun.