Book of Poetry

8,000 hours

8,000 hours,

A whole year,

But still not enough time,

To say it all.

All this time,

All these stories,

So many still untold,

Watch them unfold,

Show the pain of what they hold,

The love,

The loss,

The sleepless nights,

The fights.

They exist,

These stories,

Of which could be told,

But are chocked out,

By the 8,000 short hours,

Of each year,

Cries are silenced,

Covered with laughter,

The world is a happy place,

Maybe it is,

Or did we not have enough time?

The hours,

Float away like leaves,

On an autumn day,

Leaving us with nothing,

But a new year,

Another 8,000 hours.