Love in fulsome lift does reach from deepest heart and hold
the gentle fold and fall of tears which tell of something lost,
and yet still known within the soul and this material cost;
being so becomes a place where time is held entranced.
Hope held in drip of sorrows coursing, salted rains,
shining, furrowed, drizzled across cheek’s allotted sphere,
course through moments, meaning, dreams, then disappear;
mind in pure remembering does draw the past once more.
What was, what is and what may be are gathered in as one,
eternal Now is called and grasps the focus of the hour,
that feelings may be felt and known for all their power;
so do we hold to what has gone as decades fall in line.