Till The Hours Are Gone Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Let my love be a love
Let it come like a wing
full of the mist of above
As the breeze outdoors sing
Life is giving its melody
Softly whispering on
All its pleasures are free
Till the hours are gone

Let my heart be its beat
Every rising on day
Early morning hours street
Every sun rising play
Lone as a day is in hours
And the night's falling in
Through tones dripping showers
On the cobblestone's spin

Let my life be its pleasure
All my words and their tones
Hidden deep inside treasure
In the deeps of alones
Those oceans are playing
Every tone and words full
each its moment's playing
In its forcing circle pull