Worldly words rolled off your tongue
like dewdrops from purple petals
when the sunrise breeze, the wild child,
plays tag with yawning pollen grains.

The trembling hands of the clock froze.
The cuckoo stopped calling mid song.
The descending darkness misstepped
and free fell through cumulus clouds.

‘I’ll seize this moment’, just four words.
In the wandering corridors
and contours of your grey matter,
honey, have you ever wondered
if the moment was yours to seize?