Fay Slimm.

Stopped Clocks

 

 

Stopped Clocks.

 

Lush and mysterious was that garden oasis.

 

Hearing a step on the path behind

I felt memory birthing another.

 

A face from the past makes my heart sing.

 

We had buried ourselves in this thicket

of jasmine and painted

one night with voluptuous colour.

 

Potent those smiles brushed with intrigue.

 

Stopped clocks cannot crumble moments

of given love nor can time ever

alter what back then we tinged with gold.