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May 2016
It matters not that years may pass
and take with them parts of us,
or age may sneak across our faces
and throw us under the bus.
Still seemingly a sculpture
or an ageless nursery rhyme,
you hang there, art for soul displayed
beyond the touch of time.

I witnessed as you robbed me
of attention elsewhere spent.
You blossomed like a cherry tree,
and I lied to mask intent
A craving for a fresh Spring love,
that very tree to climb,
and to swing there, from your branches
beyond the touch of time.

I wanted you like Summertime,
I reveled in your heat.
The long, hot days turned into nights
Where I sought to compete
to bask there in your sunlight...
I'd spend my final dime
To ride the sky with you, like stars,
beyond the touch of time.

I fell for you like fiery leaves,
carried forth on Autumn wind,
and dried up on the forest floor
A season, there to spend,
Nestled in your deep laid roots,
it should have been a crime
To fade away as you stood there
beyond the touch of time.

I loved you like a blizzard,
but you came across as salt
Melting me to clear the way
through my wintry assault.
Yet danced around me like a flake,
held aloft by the sublime,
and hung there in the frozen air
beyond the touch of time.

Full circle, and full cycle,
the revolution's done.
In the aftermath, the epilogue,
it's hard to say who won.
I still see you, through the seasons
and you live on like a rhyme,
written upon  infinity,
beyond the touch of time.
Clayborn Todd Wooton
330
 
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