Days, Nights, Hours, Minutes.
Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughing with a sigh?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?
Hours, minutes? noon, midnight?
Nay, tis not nothing, but the passage and course of life
That thus reveals the truth of our world to us.
The flow of time we wish to hasten,
With every fibre of our soul,
For every minute passing, brings us closer.
There is longing, and sighing, and whisper'd words.
There are confessions, revelations, and secrets told.
I shall not fear being away from thee, though it hurt me to the quick,
For knowledge I bear that soon again we shall unite.
I bid my longing farewell, and blow thee a kiss,
My marvelous angel, my rain cloud, my gift.