No soul is busy, only blind
to treasures they’ve agreed to leave behind.
Those who care will carve a way
through crowded hours, through night and day.

Time is no prison, no rusted chain
it softens hands that choose to change.
If you matter, they will bend,
reach for seconds, make them spend.

So do not weigh love by idle clocks,
or promises that knock but lock.
The heart that wants you won’t delay
it shows up fully, finds a way.

It gathers moments, small and true,
and makes a home inside of you.