Love lifts the grey day
           from the grey waters
of the grey river
           that flows by the Tower
of cold hard grey flint

Love lifts the day
           with her warmth
and her kiss
           and her kind words
and the tenderness
           of her smile
and the openness
           of her arms

Time is a single measure
           and not of all things
but of things only
           that pass and fade
and grow dimmer
           and decline and ultimately
wither away —
           petals consumed
in the fiery furnace :
           not so love
that lifts the day
           however grey
and fills the minute and the hour
            with bliss enjoyed  
and the promise 
             of more to come

John Lyons

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