You have,
three minutes:
To say everything you've been holding back.

You have,
three minutes,
To say almost everything is never impossible.

You have,
three minutes,
To say goodbye.

You have,
only three minutes.
The clock is loosing it's time.
You only have,
three minutes
to pour out your heart,
before I leave.
You have three minutes.

You have,
three minutes,
To tell me how much you'll try to never forget.

You have,
three minutes,
To say how you'll always miss me; don't cry.

You have,
three minutes
To tell me goodbye.

And the minutes are gone.
Goodbye.

So pour out your heart,
like you said
you would.

Because three minutes
have passed.


The Inspiration: "It's Three Minutes until Dinner!" said my mom. I carry it out, and write this in the three minutes before supper.