An Hour Poem by Edwina Reizer

If I never had you for a day
and only for an hour,
I could let it lengthen in my mind
and find in me the power
to remember each and every minute
as if time stood completely still.
Quiet, yet with a pounding of blood
not quiet, oh the thrill.

Time is of no consequence.
For the heart does not measure it.
It only recalls how it feels
which becomes an infinite.
So an hour becomes a lifetime
and a minute becomes forever.
And what then of a second?
That's the hollowness of never.