We move through life
at the speed of time--
sometimes the rapids chuckle
or hiss us along,
and sometimes it's the glass
of an unruffled lake.
On the right green day
or untellable night,
my time moves back
to when we met, poised
upon several simultaneous doorways,
and time forgets to roll on, caught
in your ineffable beauty.
Sometimes time skates ahead,
or all the times circle out at once
and there we are, or maybe just me,
unbound and free,
and you are a miracle awaiting
recognition but you don't know
how to look,
but I do, I do.
J. Pratt-Walter, (c) 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment