When weeps the time

When weeps the time for passion’s flame

and moonlit stars don’t look the same,

it finds no place where clearing falls

instead, dark depths the heart does trawl.

Gardens, gone from bush to brush and then to hush,

have sung their songs of youthful blush.

To fight the mind’s cruel entropy

one serves the heart’s lobotomy.

But soon in life if not in limb

come moments still, one’s cup to brim.

And then, when whispers fend off shouts

no more weeps time, then, love slakes drought.

4 thoughts on “When weeps the time

    1. My wife, Rae, is writing a novel at the moment and is generally excellent with language. She had never heard the word before! I hope it makes sense to others. She’s usually on top of that kinda stuff!

      1. Melody, your poetry always speaks. The words you choose are always evocative and meaningful. You’re more in a place to receive praise than give it. But thanks all the same.

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