HiveComb

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I want to tell you, my love,
that there will be days when time gives up,
when the clock, with its bitter smile,
stops, and the world responds.
We will wake up, in the sun, in soft sheets,
curled up, like two vines,
I want to tell you, my love,
that the birds outside will sing without measure,
while our dreams float slowly,
Abnormalities will be our norm,
laughing at chaos, dancing in the strange,
cooking together, disorder in form,
and playing at forgetting everything.
I want to tell you, my love,
that there will be days when time doesn't matter,
an eternal refuge, a sweet corner,
where love blooms and never runs out.