Why count the hours, the minutes?
Moments,
(Sometimes blurry, Sometimes pure)
Consume your life at most.
Time is merely a number
Ticking away from grasp;
The moments last.
That is why
She lives off
Every firework blasting,
Every concert raving,
Every moment he was left behind
In the dust.
For,
When he shall return to her,
That moment
May surpass the countdown
That aged a lover's locket
Copper to the touch.
