The debt of time

Where do fleeting moments go?

Do they rise like yeast

as the sun sets east?

Or do they disperse and grow

like wildflowers in the meadow?

As time unveiled

in tow, they trailed

Many paths have flourished,

Unless malnourished

Up above, those balls of cotton --

The result of memories long forgotten.

Beware of prints left behind,

For the past and future are intertwined.