Time was
when love was kissing easy
spring's first smile in the key of gold,
an everlasting
ache as sweet as reason
feels no rhyme and may never grow old.

Still now
in warp and weft of passion
warmth lingers from carefree youth of whim,
as tides subside
down the foam-white sheets
weep deep in the power of lust's battle hymn.

Time still
I pray is left to savour
such joy as is the thief of content,
this elemental
understanding lofted
on silent wings of the transient.

Still was
this time less than forever
the exponential arc of the dream,
perchance to sleep
within twinned tombs
'til things are one day what they seem?

Time now
to wake from still soul's stare
and make the bold unbelayed climb
to fabled peak
on the plane of fancy
where there evermore will be
still time.