Blessedly Simple Things

Blessedly Simple Things

There is always a click, when a minute shifts
One new tick tock between the beats.
Some speak to pins and the cloak of the old
Other seconds are blessedly simple things

Dark whispers that touch the skin and the soul
Pushin' the past and pullin' in the day
Hiding the future in a fog just long enough...
To frame the time by envisioning the moment

Spells that are all too small to count,
But can never be forgotten, never really.
Bits of poems I find fractured in space

Floating freely, a myth of rhythm and melody
Where sweets and bitters play on the tongue
Like lemon sour syrup on a perfect icy cone.