Small

How each moment with you is sadly small,
for I love you, in your arms I am borne;
a butterfly's span takes longer to fall
and wails sharper not heard when bereft mourn.

My large tears dripping upon parched land pound,
head bent I stare at each furrow they make,
our time together spent in oceans bound
to quick natural streams, none can escape.

The little glints of the stars seem to mock
me if in empty spaces I dart to clasp,
found formed hard and lifted no other rock
with weight to keep you than used by my grasp.

May my thirst to stay as one be a shore
with you the sea that yet her cup will pour.