Different This Time

I say every clock has stopped;
My serial infatuations reach
Their last installment: you.
All that you must say is
“Yes,” and we will tumble
Ever after, arms entwined,
And lips together, you
Above or you below, upon
A bed or in a meadow,
Upright later, giddy, chirping,
As if we were forest birds,
And time and every clock
Will stop, if I'm not proven
Wrong.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2014-11-14 at 01:31

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