Email Poem

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Poem

Tell me lover please what intimately 
makes you tick

So I can summon forth bye whatsoever 
means

I may intricately hand craft a bespoke clock

That pulses and count's time in accordance
to your particular individual heartbeat

That whence it chimes and strikes the bewitching hour of the truest form
of pure love

The second minute and hour hand's
grind the entire world to a frozen stop

Because nothing else not even time itself
progresses in this vacuum bubble

No light emitting speed permitting
pierces relatively between the steely
gaze of two

And matter's not how many minutes
hour's day's or months may pass 

Until he or she blink's first only after then
the hand's of time are permitted

To the pace of their elevated
palpitating beating heart a skip 
along once again

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