Perfect summers, precious hours
over ceaseless thoughts that linger.
Silent clocks teach endless time
when the heart refuses to beat without tears.
Time, oblivious to the ache that is love,
counts the throbbing beats so rhythmically;
like a jester.
The game relents.
Desire strays.
Hearts mourn for loved ones lost.
Sometimes moments are measured in years.
The days stretch ahead
and the raw, voiceless hours linger.
Time, oh so wise, mocks our measured moments.
For love is endless,
oblivious to the clock's chime.
Years teach time laughs at perfect love
and mourns our moments of perfect desire.
For love is a work in progress
never complete.
And desire comes and goes at will. |