Stones
The clock drips time upon my soul
As trees paint Winter’s touch
I watch as alders pay their toll
And ashes creak with aching pain
It doesn’t really matter much
No one comes back again
This one way street of dragging feet
Is often lit with warming sun
And just as often rain
We twist and dance
And with romance
Hand in hand we dare to chance
Love found we take the train
Life bound we will remain
Constant as the clocking stones
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2005
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