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.