it's funny to imagine time as walking;
would he wear little boots? au naturale, perhaps?
would he get tired? bored? would he relapse
to the classic passtime of beat-step stalking
the second hand round the clock face?
think! a formless concept in real space...

so then, why would this "distance" matter?
i could wave my hand - open a portal
up between moments; our newly immortal
honeymoon periods served on a platter
well - why not? it's a trick; the reverse
of our father's relativity to our universe

now, let me hear my atomic watch tick
i'll set it to sync to the minute we meet;
to us, we're unknown - but for chance, i'd cheat
the laws of spacetime - i'll make it quick:
your words left me floored; a debt i still owe
i'll wear hope as a blanket, your reply is a pillow