All things being equal, still you spill your sands, time measured only by what it does without. That shape in waiting shifts its shadows, shrugs its shoulders, and begins the dream. The days given up to dreaming, the sands surrendered to the tide, you unburden the shift and sway with the lilt of your hips. You pace the dissolution to the acuity of your heart, slip off skin and shadow until only bones are left to shine and shout. Grain by grain, shape by shape, you reckon and you reign.
You blaze and burn, all grace and glory while I crave the flutter of your kisses, the glisten of your skin. The insistence of your hip beneath my fingers, the shimmer of your golden soul electric to my touch. The breathless stretch, the furtive glance that beckons on and on. Lips drizzled down throat and limb, kisses trickling down your belly, kisses drizzling down your thighs. I am bound to you by means past conceiving, but I cling to your every leap and twist, flesh and bone and blood glowing with its flow. Your spirit moves me towards your touch, the shape you shift with mood and want. This hourglass only safe in my hungry embrace.
It is the shape of transition, the wheel in all its turnings. You bide your time in seas and stars, the skins that stretch over all this wishing. You count your blessings and shrug off your burdens, the tide of your steady breath, the rollicking of your heart. The sands fleck and spatter, the gathered constellations of this grand lapse. You will weather, you will wander, you will ever shine. I will measure my dwindling days by your architecture, your shape and substance my only calendar, the time you give me my only clock.