Transfixed, befuddled and bemused
since there’s no sense to life or rhyme.
I cannot wait as there’s no time for time.
My hour has set me on the run;
my pocket watch is nonsense and a crime:
repeats its days, still confused.
Faint amber glow remains to haunt
their fiery past.
Her slumber stirs. His candle cast
and with its burn, her snuffer there again to taunt
but not to trim his light.
His wick still wild with passion’s flight.
dreams emboldened; reckless delight.
She sang of open sky, free will
for cag`ed birds.
Maya merged her melody with words.
And, trippingly, faith fostered on her tongue,
now heralds forth in heaven’s choir
love’s tempo, perfectly sung.
Her poems, holy; burnished in that fire