Poem of the Day
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about time—how it stretches endlessly when we’re young but slips through our fingers as we grow. One moment, you’re dreaming about the future; the next, you’re looking back, wondering where it all went.
I wanted to capture that feeling, the quiet way time moves—stealing, shaping, and yet leaving echoes of us behind. That thought led me to write The Hands of Time, a little reflection on how fleeting yet powerful our moments truly are.
Let me know what you think—how do you feel about time? Does it move too fast, too slow, or just right?














































