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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366033" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>When Our Days Are Minutes...</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">At life’s butt end, I offer this, my sweet, <br>A long, slow burn to, at last, defeat; <br>A dreamtime reverie of old, gone ways<br>And sleepy wakings at the nub of days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A light touch, drowsy, on your fading skin<br>To feed slow warmth at your cold come-in, <br>A languid stroking at your liquid stirrings<br>Before sleep deepens and reclaims two virgins.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">More long silences than words between us<br>(Thoughts drip silver where a word breeds fever) , <br>Painful pauses at a mind’s long ache<br>When a thought brings anger, or a word’s too late.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All this, woman, can I see before us, <br>Life’s long panic that will cut and draw us, <br>But still I’ll hold you at the long-loved hand<br>When our days are minutes, and our minutes sand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">22 December 1991</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Lewis+Paget">David Lewis Paget</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366033" data-title="When Our Days Are Minutes... de David Lewis Paget" data-description="At life’s butt end, I offer this, my sweet, 
A long, slow burn to, at last, defeat; 
A dreamtime reverie of old, gone ways
And sleepy wakings at the nub of days.

A light touch, drowsy, on your fading skin
To feed slow warmth at your cold come-i..."></div>
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