We Aren't Just Dead Flowers In A Lalique Glass Vase Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Reaching into the hourglass
Emptying the sand out
There's always a tomorrow.
With an external hand
But in your heart, there's
Never been a moment of play.
All that stands between us
Now it is slipping away.
But in your heart, it's
Never been a little acorn.
Sometimes, love is a sailboat.
Adrift around Cape Horn
Sometimes you've got to hold on.
With both hands for dear life,
At the end of it all, she's the one.
Wanted for strife
It seems when time is ebbing
And flowing away at pace
We'll remember by God's grace.
We, too, are stardust in space.
We aren't just dead flowers.
In a Lalique glass vase.