We’ll sit where we sat
before, above the stream,
watching
the golden
eels of sunlight dart
and shimmy
above
bronze coloured stones
to the sound
of water searching
out
all
the possible
solutions to
the conundrum of strewn
rocks
while
somewhere beneath us
a hollow-sounding tock
tock
drums
our time away.
Let
us
weave time and stream into a cloak, a Klimt creation:
magnificent
flowing, yet enveloping us in a precise moment
of
pleasure. Let us hold it in our eyes so we may see it,
wear it
when
times are harder, these
moments scarcer and
the glint
of
gold more precious.
