My darling,
I wish we had more time
If it would make all the difference
We might have more time
But forevers are not wasted on artists like us
For when we die
All that is left of our souls,
Twining through mountains of those forgotten,
Will be our art
And time is not kind to art
•
My darling,
If we could have years
I might see you grow old still
You might smile
Through crinkled eyes that see no longer
And your brush would fall
And I would not be there to pick it up
Years are not kind to artists
•
My darling,
If we could have but one more minute
A moment, nothing more
I could press a kiss to your brow
And you would lean in
And it would be enough
But the minutes and moments are gone
And our time has run out
YOU ARE READING
Gentle Reminders of You
Poetryoh, reader, my reader, please don't hate what you are about to read they come from a part of me deep inside buried beneath blood and flesh warped in anger and weeping challenged in love changed in trust bound by hope and they are yours
