Time is the master of thieves;
Capturing beauty and the very essence of life,
holding them close to his heart to
feel their warmth against his cold skin.

Before life slips through our fingers,
grains of sand falling effortlessly through the cracks,
let us go together, you and I,
walking through flourishing gardens, bursting with light.

Let us speak words of adoration, hope, despair,
each to the other. Our words will float softly
through the gentle air and thrashing sea to the heavens.
Our love to follow soon after, once our time is gone.

Until the last grain of sand has left the withered hands of time,
my love for you will bloom, a delicate flower
on a quiet summer morning, inhaling each pulse of sunlight,
feeling the rays pierce its throbbing heart.

I will soak you in each day like roots with rain;
the brightness of your eyes, the faint pulse beneath your skin.
Your grace and beauty cannot be matched in
the vast, sun-soaked deserts of eternity.

Let us go, then, before time devours our souls,
and build our love slowly, outshining the
greatest empires and strongest kingdoms,
until our lungs breathe our last burst of air.

Put no number to our days; instead, feel our youthful innocence
exude through our softly-spoken words. Reflect on the
synchronized racing of our hearts, as we chase our sun
back to the distant horizon.