Saturday, March 8, 2014

Time's Tick-tock





No rustle, no ripple, the smooth hour slips
Without sigh or stipple from sleek fingertips
Silver-silk shimmer of ruthless regale
Grace-gilded glimmer from time’s tick-tock grail

See how the sun slants to slip thinly through
The line where the fine-fairest day drinks death’s dew
Murmur then sadly but futile the dirge
As moments drip gladly to Time’s tick-tock surge

Our first sweet sorrow began with the hurt
Of tender tomorrows returning to dirt
But still we press past its fleeting farewell
Famished for love-song’s from time’s tick-tock knell

No holy thought can dissuade, snuff or snare
This ether draught poured from fountains of air
There is no refund and none can retrace
One silver-soft shimmer of Time’s tick-tock grace

No rustle, no ripple, the smooth hours flow
Silent and subtle where white lilies blow
Never a footfall and never a print
Left in the fallow of time’s tick-tock sprint

© Janet Martin

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