A Time Not Yet Shared Between Us

When my clock strikes twelve, and my time has come to a halt,
Whisper into my ear your favorite memory of us,
And grip my hand until I cannot feel the pain of an unknown tomorrow.
No grave can contain my soul,
But my free spirit is not as trapped as my roaming mind.
I wonder through the space where my 2AM thoughts keep me up,
And daydreams slowly turn into visions of a memory not yet formed.
I hear the words spoken onto my heart, yet cannot picture your face,
I see it clearly, as though looking into the sun, high strung on power and grace.
You promise me love and say things a poet would envy,
Yet as the hand hits 11, your grip feels faint,
The settling panic makes me close my blinded eyes;
All I can hear is my pounding heart,
The clock begins to chime, though I am not ready to say my goodbyes,
And you have only begun to remind me of a tale between lost friends,
Who never got to have a drink promised to each other.
Only a few more minutes until my spinning head comes to a halt,
And my precious thoughts and daydreams stop altogether,
So until a new hour comes around, and the clock begins its cycle again,
I will wait for you to whisper your devotion into my ear,
And watch as our love floats into a time not yet shared between us.


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