Monday, April 30, 2012

Strange Love

Time is a valuable thing, though I
Often think in the vales of my dream that
It's benefits often fail to give thy
Love back to me in its fullness. The hat
Worn by time is riff raff and clearly sewn
At the edge by an unskilled hand, as though
Counter to what is meant to be soon known;
That which is only known by tunnels you
Dug in the depths of time: when the seed sown
In our love took form in the sunset hue
Of a summer day. Yet value cannot
Stop time's un-threading decay, what is bought
In time must stay in time, worn by time so
That in time it may wear thin and wear out!

Then in the fullness of time, my time, though
I cannot overcome it's thread, nor route
It's powers, I must be content to brew
The contents of my cup with what I have!
To give myself over to your lave,
That together we may sooth lovingly,
While time still permits, what in time we see.
Let us then take the value of our time
To be a gift to us, and the future
Gift to the product of our love made rhymes;
Then in the depths of time where you dug my
Beating heart out, and planted there your own,
May we both nourish each other. I thy
Love will promise to keep in the time shown. 

                                                      Strange Love, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

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