In late Februrary

the sun lingers

for afternoon tea

on a table spread

with morning hours,

and  noon's lacy victories.

.

Years seem shorter now,

weeks are but a thought,

the months are but seconds

in the time of the grasp.

.

Gather days with lights

of fireflies and put them

in a glass jar to remember

twinkling eyes, or soft kisses,

and never let dusk lure

the sun into his carriage.

10/06/2007

Posted on 10/06/2007
Copyright © 2026 Jane E Pearce