Monday, 7 October 2013

Hands on the Clock

A minute moves imperceptibly,
each second rests in memory,
a sepia thought. It lingers long
in the hallways of yesterday,
the flowers in laughter's field,
soft summer kisses,
a few words spoken in love.

And if all the clocks don't stop
as death dims our eyes, but
continue a hopeful pace into
the hour when hearts race again,
will you stretch out your hand,
for mine, in just one more breath?

This week's Magpie Tales image is by crilleb50. If you would like to read more stories and poems based on this please visit