What if I befriended time
Then took its outstretched hand
Separation was no more
Despite life’s shifting sand
Daytime, nighttime were as one
Without the fear of loss
Silver seconds, yearnless years
And age no bridge to cross
I beckon thee to join with me
In unrelenting drive
To put away some thought of death
To embrace what’s alive
Each minute is a golden hour
Each breath a pulsar day
When time gives us its outstretched hand
We must not look away
Do you, as I, daily perform an unending juggling act with the hours, grasping at fleeting minutes, feeling, by sundown, famished for time?
Who of us doesn’t wish to artfully turn the wretched clock into origami art that would sit silent and still on the wall and evidence beauty instead of lack?
Were it possible, I would wave my surely magic arms, and weave into the moments a stop gate, then take eternity to tell you, thank you, you were right, and I love you.
Damn all that I want
The seconds, their rhythm
How perfect they seem
The song they sing
As though you are here
Championing their entrance
Into the hours, the Days
LisaRosier.com 