Precious Time Poem by Mark Heathcote

How can we cultivate our precious time?
Midnight and the hour have now long gone.
Let the mother of my heart blow out the candles.
Banish the sunset in its whispery flames.
Choose an amber locket to lock my soul in.
As I sit here alone and watch the moon
feel inside of me an even deeper gloom
the lamp flickers, stars, fireflies without-names
our tears are just as salty all the same.
Whether we live or die or ever came to be.
How can we cultivate our precious time?
Midnight and the hour have now long gone.