A Friday Poem
In almost the last sun of
summer
a Friday afternoon soon passed.
And time itself seemed fast,
as past and future ceased to be
while we sought to twist eternity
into a shape where we could dwell
untouched by time’s decay.
Yet, no day could last the pace.
Your face required more attention
than our time allowed.
a Friday afternoon soon passed.
And time itself seemed fast,
as past and future ceased to be
while we sought to twist eternity
into a shape where we could dwell
untouched by time’s decay.
Yet, no day could last the pace.
Your face required more attention
than our time allowed.
The crowd did not exist.
And I missed nothing of your smile,
as lunch-time-halves-of-bitter-men
jostled at the bar.
All were as far away
as possibilities that you,
and I could say enough
to stay the-tick-of-time,
or turn, with all our passionate desire
the coming winter to an instant spring.
And,
time’s the thing,
which takes all dreams
and makes all ‘seems’ the same.
And,
though, I know, the snow will fall
to cover all we shared or had,
I feel so very, very glad
the earth had brought one magic day
to match my thoughts of you,
So new, and yet, so soon to die.
© James Rainsford 2013
Note to readers: Posted as my contribution to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. This was written to celebrate a long lost moment, spent with a long lost love. Your views are welcome and I'll respond to all who visit here and leave a comment.
Kind regards to all at dVerse Poets, James.
