If we dance here a while in waiting
Remembrance may come a-baiting
I’ll trace a line in this fallen snow
Tie a pink ribbon into the neatest bow
Wrap my fingers in and simply twist
As the begging bough begins to list
I remember this
In the time that we were thus
In the making I am one
Of this memory I am done
Do you falter between walking
Blissfully ignore me while I’m talking?
I wish upon a single scented rose
Though mentioning it I suppose
You might remember this
In the time that we were thus
A cloud of passion in the air
Dare to ever stop and stare
As I post you the cheekiest smile?
Ever stop to wonder a while
How I am ever almost so near?
Is it intimacy you most fear?
Will I always remember this
In the time that we were thus?
Are you slowly cottoning on
Or should I say I am finally done
With love, this idle stupid thing?
Of sanity I can never hope to win
In an endless search for perfection
Amidst this moral dereliction
May you remember this
In the time that we were thus
So I shall go on my idle way
Without a hint of I might stay
Yet I fathom not a blink from you
Though I never doubted you true
Tomorrow stretches out its hand
And upon my two feet I shall land
I may not always remember this
In the time that we were thus
copyright Vickie Johnstone, August 12, 2014.
