Just For You Poetry

Time, that day went somewhere else,
its race died away for two sweet
hours and duty stopped pressing
while wrist watches lent themselves
to about-face on long needed relief.

Time became missing, movement left,
when love overtook what it perceived
as the date made to be remembered,
when loose hands of clocks gave them
just one afternoon and time receded.

Then came that sad day in December
and uncovered memory bequeathed
its proof that one union of timeless
love could consume grief and forever
place death's cruel sting out of reach.