Loving you more than time has time for,
Not starved of earthlife, certainly not
Wanting to sing part-songs in heaven
With those we loved and, so, keep on earth;
Lying awake planning for more of
Our lives as in our time, I reach
For my luminous watch. It’s stopped. How shall I
Set it?—No less a universe
Than is outside. But day will ‘break’
—A hard word for a new thing—
Then guess the time, wind up the springs
Of love, of darkness, for a start.
From: Dickinson, Patric, More than Time, 1970, Chatto and Windus: London, p. 10.
(https://archive.org/details/morethantime0000dick/)
Date: 1970
By: Patric Thomas Dickinson (1914-1994)
