Living on unmarked time

A solitude of the self
           living on unmarked time
adjusting to the differences
           of temper and belief
these are the colours of spring
           the intensity of yellow daffodils
blue skies and robins returning
           day after day to sing their song

here where our ancestors
           cast no shadow
and love is a memory
           in the making
I remember the geraniums
           on the sill of the shed window
I remember the towers we climbed
           hand in hand and the moon
that spread its light
           upon the surface of the lake
I remember the colour of love
           in your eyes
such beauty
           that I will never forget

John Lyons