Long Day, Not Really, Maybe

So slow, the flow of time, as she creeps slow
Into the next of what to come for we.
To live the morrow, live the day, will go,
But starts as in a dream, for better to see.
And yet, the more we want, the more to taunt
That we might see so free it may not be.
A seed or tree or you or me, we want.
Now comes unbid and welcome though I see,
The start all sounds unlike a creek that’s dry.
A fun today thing you see, not you, me?
A light so bright, yet warm, not hot, so what?
The things we ponder, we will wander to see.
Will we get there, may be first you and I.
So I will get there,rushed, but rush, and why?