We count in days our times away
from unshared lives, thus we convey
parts of ourselves in space and time
when I am yours and you are mine
if not next year then for today.
What will become of this foray
into this shining spot astray?
Our sun-filled walks in perfect clime
we count in days.
‘Midst misty fog and ocean spray
I find my rock, I spy Pompeii.
Though not so young, not in our prime,
our spices blend like tender thyme.
I cannot help that you hold sway.
We count in days.
~~~
I am too late to submit this for dVerse Poets Pub Form for All~the Rondeau, hosted this week by Tony Maude. His writing prompt on the Rondeau caught my fancy nevertheless and I enjoyed the exercise. Thank you, Tony.
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Acrylic painting: Oregon coast, between Netarts Bay and Oceanside by Anna
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