A moment caught within a frame--
frozen in time, ever the same.
A dawning love shines from their eyes
where happiness deep inside lies.
But in the hall, a clock stands tall;
its bell resounds as hours fall
on hours. Across the room like mist
dust floats and falls in snowy drifts
and, curtaining the polished glass,
coats woodwork, cloth, and molded brass.
As wisps of grey befleck his hair
to match the wrinkles her cheeks bear,
come things no camera's eye can see--
their bittersweet tracks march constantly
across the heart. Their mighty power
ripples in echoes, with the hour.
So as the clock chimes, loud and sweet
and rattles the dust and the glass beneath,
those moving below can feel its sound
resonate, as they touch the ground.
Yet dust and bells will never move
the picture-perfect pair in love.