Each day, each second has an oldness to it. Each passing moment becomes a part of the past. The smell of coffee, the beauty of the flower, it is all a memory, a glory of the past.
Tick-tock-tick-tock, each second has a different story to tell. Each second has something to say, has a new expectation. Each second has a hope. Every second brings you closer to the future, to newer possibility. It doesn’t fail to stop ticking.
The hour hand moves after 60 minutes, but the second passes away in a blink.