A sunlit moment..,

Wicked Game humming in the air, and the room turns warm., sun resting on the table like a memory. 2 p.m., and suddenly I’m older than I am, younger than I’ve ever been, standing between yesterday and the century ahead. The light says., you’ve been here before, even if I haven’t. Someone in 1890 felt this ache, a girl in 1964 leaned on her window and wondered who she might become. The floor is a golden river, and I am a traveler without a map, floating from past to future, half nostalgic, half afraid, stuck between then and now The song ends, the sun shifts, and the moment passes a quiet goodbye to a life I never lived, but somehow still remember.