The glance, when understood, is worth more
than all the words that have been said ;
Than all the steps upon this earth
that we so lightly tread...

And here was time, encapsulated,
as quiet as the tip-toe back and forth
of the last bastions of hope in their crisp
and perfectly ironed uniforms.

He thought the silence became him, suited his mood,
as did the elegant whiteness of the room,
and only the incessant drip, drip, drip,
of his enforced sustenance dared to intrude.

Unwilling to leave, he instead relinquished
the thoughts of his summer days only to memory ;
And though no longer firm of hand, he could still
look up through the veil of his descending eternity.

"Come with me," he said, (though no words
he spoke). "Come to where our world is fixed
in time forever and our eyes weep tears of joy
at all the wonders we have yet to see and marvel at."

"But I am not ready," came the hushed reply,
"I have still as many walks along our favourite
beach as there are summer days yet to come.
Can you not wait awhile?"

"You ask the wrong person," he whispered,
"choice is a luxury we only think we own.
Such arrogance is only for the young, not for
those for whom the dice is already thrown."

"Then I shall wait for you instead," she replied,
a last kiss, delicate as the gossamer wings of a butterfly,
descending. "On the path along the cliff that leads
down to the beach, I expect you'll be there by and by."

And here was time, encapsulated in a glance
as all knowing, as all encompassing as the
tip-toe back and forth of the last bastions of hope
in their crisp and perfectly ironed uniforms.