benchmarks
and time
don't consume me.
I fill voids,
take root,
bequeath beauty,
(at least for
beholders)
we made
the perfect couple.
now no one
notices this flow
of measured years.
every hour
is memory,
each second
alone a clarion
call:
I won't allow
disparaging of
my consort to
weathered
beauty.
Poem © 2013 Rick Burnett Baker
Image by crilleb50 shared by Tess Kincaid
The beginning... I love it. Excelent poem, Rick. I really like your new blog header, too.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad I came here! I love this poem.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and bittersweet...
ReplyDeletewell done
ReplyDeleteNor should you. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteBrilliant title for your great Mag offering this week :)
ReplyDeletegorgeous sentiment
ReplyDeleteStunning! I wish I had written this.
ReplyDeleteIncredibly lovely, Rick.....
ReplyDeleteEvocative. Leaves me feeling a bit melancholy this morning.
ReplyDeleteThis is absolutely breath-taking
ReplyDeleteYour words more beautiful with every read.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]