“Though lovers be lost, love shall not;
and Death shall have no Dominion.”
Dylan Thomas
Dalí’s Clock
3 & 4 / 7
3
When I look at my watch:
time flies off my wrist
and flaps its hands
helplessly.
I taste the bitterness of bile,
squeezing each moment,
between finger and thumb,
rolling it about
like a breadcrumb
or a shred of label
stripped from an empty
bottle.
4
How long can I sit here,
staring her down
as she flourishes
then fades,
her eyelids closing
at day’s end,
like flowers?
Daffodils gild
garden and hedgerow,
their yellow mouths
devouring April.
Sunshine so loud,
the hills and valleys
set ablaze.
Golden voices
raised in a floral
requiem.
rogermoorepoet 
Golden voices
raised in a floral
requiem.
floral and requiem…what a powerful juxtaposition. This speaks to that moment we never want to pass, yet it passes more quickly for our tight clutching, squeezing through our fingers.
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Your comment is a poem in itself, Tanya. Thank you.
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‘yellow mouths devouring April’ … Great phrase.
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April went by very quickly that year … each second weighed heavily … but somehow the days flew by …
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