The Clock of Love

When does love become a habit? When does caring change to comfort? And as the moon will gradually wane When does pleasure turn to pain? How does the vocabulary change To phrases cold and often strange? From jest and joyful playful lust To an empty plated hardened crust? And as the children grow to age Life seems to dim the lights on stage From golden hues and sunshine haze To blank stares and to distant gaze Yet as the autumn chill bites at the bones And children’s calls come from distant zones A hand held as they walk in a park Dispels the chill and stays the dark