Where do the seconds meet
to evince your dawdling?
And how to declare their nullity
when they dare forge into hours?
Why did your pupils become stoic
and lose the plaintive frown?
When will your memory disavow its duty
to call me by my name?
What is left of your warmth,
once a bully pulpit to teach us love?
And who will filch the sweet potatoes
you so much treasure, when your taste buts
no longer grasp the mellow?