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
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