stirs to dawn
dries to noon
whirs to dusk
cries to night
the rain not the dust
till my love depart
art
worthier than words the meaning kiss
which makes true poetry of lips
which sets a wisdom into rhyme
no pen can simulate by line
music has cadence but heartbeats sound
what no ear ever tuned beyond
a harmony so fully sensed
that voice is mute with instrument
imperative to move the dancer's arms
would free the body from those bonds
wherein an inner rhythm leaps
secret with wonder, flow and cease
the eye's canvas such beauty lights
of shade and color and design
that brush must hesitate to set
a lesser skill on palimpsest
yet kiss is brief and heartbeat slows
while freedom captivates us most
and beauty turns to counterfeit
the images lost in memory's mist