Sir, I am not a bird of prey:

a Lady does not seize the day.

I trust that brief Time will unfold

our youth, before he makes us old.

How could we two write lines of rhyme

were we not fond of numbered Time

and grateful to the vast and sweet

trials his days will make us meet?

The Grave's not just the body's curse;

no skeleton can pen a verse!

So while this numbered World we see,

let's sweeten Time with poetry,

and Time, in turn, may sweeten Love

and give us time our love to prove.

You've praised my eyes, forehead, breast;

you've all our lives to praise the rest.

- 1997

Editor's Note: Students were asked to pair a poem and painting with no explanation of the connection.