Contours of Time

Years. Again I stand
here, `neath my Jasmine bush,
a witness mute,
to a throbbing `then'
a still-born `now',
those falling petals,
ruined and marvelous,
all at once.
I reach across
the in-between,and,
soft trace a shape,
an angular face,
a tenuous belief
made real.
A double take, and she,
the inside-shake
of my ruined heart,
raises half an eyelid,
beams and ,breaks
into spots and dust.
Infinity.