I take some time, a quiet heart
And gently write a still record of one calm moment.
Fleeting, it will be past, yet as of now
It hangs still slumbering about my neck.
Such a time, an event, a place,
Yet the cause or stage of some such 'dream'
Seems to have been the backdrop to
An opened way, a new road forward.
Yet I still believe that love's not love
From eye to eye from lip to lip or
Word to ear, but time to time
And thus it flows.
A quiet, patient, sacred grace
That now glows on from one encounter,
Seems to offer truth, peace, love and calm respect.
And though in hurried, coloured
Blur of richest romance
Love seems contrived to last a life
And yet is gone,
Though one stands aloft and casts a cynic's ranging eye
Upon all instinct born from that desire,
If there is no rush or race and life consents to flow, passion sedate...
Might not then a love in time be found to last as long as it is needed?
Why then, no wrong is done
In gently stepping on untrod boards;
And if at worst, time holds a different tale
The pleasure gained is not undone
In those delicate refrains,
The gentlest, sweetest "I told myself so..."