Do you remember when we kissed under the trees near the shore in the moonlight?
Time does not take things away. It preserves. It records. Time is the net of memory.
For years I felt sorry for myself, thinking every day
time took things away.
But time is the opposite. It holds things forever and never lets them go.
Time is vernacular. It is neither fast nor slow.
Time is the casual waist and wrist. The look which says, “I know.”
Time is comfortable and easy. Time will always be here.
My life fading away was always my greatest fear.
Sentimental and sad, I viewed time the wrong way.
Time preserves. Nothing is taken away.
Light will see the light again.
Time knows we never forget.
Time is not an arrow or a train.
Time is the binding rain.
Time will face you next to her yet.
You will kiss her by the beach again
under those same trees.
Tell this poem to tell her, please.