Dancing On the Surface of Our Clocks
Each child soon cocooned within their histories tomb.
Every painter, poet, sculptor shaping lives one action at a time.
Artists born of feathered movement,
each angel’s gesture proof of vibratory vision.
This one’s for you.
This one’s love to call your very own.
A masterpiece of sinned and sculpted futures
wrapped within a tomb of fancied past.
Living, liking, loving, hating, moments,
shown to us by others in the crease of every face.
Love gives the gift of eyes once new
from brown to blue to open.
While time reveals in tracks of lifetime’s lost
footprints of indifference
dancing on the surface of our clocks.
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