Years blur, and stir within the soul a song of long ago
The hour, like a flower blooms in full color then fades
We cannot cradle long in hands, the joys that we love so
But teach the heart to keep the art of whisper-soft parades
Daylight, with deft dexterity, plays heaven-violins
How subtle is the shuttle that deepens indigo hue
The lilt of little moments turns a phantom loom that spins
From tattered cloth, gossamer monuments of me and you
The touch and taste we cherish hastens into nevermore
And none of us can garner living’s blitz like bits of sand
Both highs and lows soon perish like waves dashed upon the
shore
And all that we have left of them are shimmers on thought’s strand
The sum of all we have and hold can cut us to the quick
Where from and to is often wooed at last by farewell’s tear
While pendulum of come and go with common tock and tick
Composes masterpieces that the heart alone can hear
© Janet Martin
