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The lines of time and space have etched in your face
as i urgently leaned forward, for an expected embrace
but you crumbled and turned to dust again, i suppose
just like the delicate windswept blown beauty of the rose
nothing left but the carrier or the human boney frame
love may be older, but nothing else has grown tame
the feelings are still there, the feelings are still the same
time and decay will have to take part of the blame
as i sit alone with the aged, the crippled and the lame
if love is universal like the white flying horse
carried by human blood and emotions, of course
then there is no purity, in this crumbling of decay
love has withered into dust and blown completly away
if love is pure and is not just body shy?
then it must exist elsewhere, long after we all wither and die
how does it then return back to it's source?
it must exist forever, then through the veils of time's hidden force
and if it permutates this fine friligree netting and completly escapes
then i will see it once again somewhere, in your rejuvinated, smooth, beautiful, baby face
Georges

Copyright:George Wright 2004

Hey George- I really dig this poem. Many beautiful questions raised. Great work.

Thank you for your kind comments, e^'. They were much appreciated.
Georges

Time and love ~ both incredibly interesting to ponder. I love this one, Georges.

Thanks, Liz. Have we time for love? or has love time?
Georges