A mostly used pen has run dry on ink
Haphazardly spilled nearby the blank page.
A falsely drawn smirk has begun to sink
Defiantly left undone past old age.
A newly found joy has worn out so soon
Perplexingly lost without mark or sign.
A dearly held love has started to bloom
Regretfully torn apart in due time.
But changes occur like night shifts from day
Effortlessly cast adrift ebb and flow
While feeling persists amongst life's remains
Resiliently forged through strife and self-growth.
I cannot discern what future awaits
Yet no moment gone could ever relate.