A new different way to see you

It was the second day of the ever remembered month of May. The Poet, has someone once tell him, started his journey asking time why does it keeps on climbing arround the clock as if the present just started to became past, and the past started to look like history. Time ropped from his huge chair and told him, that if he doesn't exist, people won't take a minute or two enjoying the good things in life, because they were allways occupied with the future. That he told me....