Filled with emotion,
A time of my devotion.
A time now past,
A time I now lack.

Was it a time wasted?
A period hasted
And is now gone.
With emptiness, you’re left alone.

Does it mean anything?
Was there a purpose to bring?
Does it still hold value
Even though the time didn’t remain true?

Was it wasted time?
Has its worth died?
All which was put in
Only to have it end.

What does this mean?
What is there to believe?
Has a pleasant time been put to death?
Or does it still live inside, in its own quiet rest?

Wasted time is but a thought,
And now a precious time is caught –
Caught somewhere between then and now,
It matters still, somehow.