precious time

Sunday, February 22, 2009

The hours of Mondays through Fridays get drawn into the chasm of onerous routines. And whatever little time left is salvaged, is cherished, is thanked for.
The weekend becomes the cynosure of each week. Yet, they have to fly by.
I don't want an end to the weekend. And sometimes, just sometimes, I woolgather and wish I had the power to freeze special moments in time.

I'm just amused. How strange it hadn't struck me till now - the value of time. Not with the passing of each birthday. Neither did it during the A levels or finals.

Yet, now, I've been reduced to a scavenger, a hoarder.
Every hour, every minute, every second. They matter the world.