A series of nothing but rhyme
Minutes of noise releasing time
No rhythm, no wine
A cold day of light
draining away
to a cold stew
freezing emotions as the wind blew
A pointless date named Sunday night
barren of purpose
once useful hours long disposable
rendered a vacuum by my memory you
As I anticipate the warmth
when you appear with a smile
a scent of you near
the minutes seem longer
until you break the time warp
with you
