A Sentimental Ornament

Time: it numbs, it strains, it takes,

It spreads us thin and bitter.

It douses youthful, dreaming flames.

It makes dust of our glitter.

Sunrise, it is a rude awake.

Sunset, it merely passes.

Days become such plodding things.

Half empty, every glass is.

But I would hope it sparked a smile

That I just spoke like Yoda,

And wonder how I'll ever find

A word to rhyme with "Yoda."

And that was lazy, I'll grant you, sure,

But I prefer to claim "creative."

Most, I prefer my thoughts of you,

Who turns all grief ablative.

And that may not be perfect use

Or employment of that word,

But vapor stuff, "poof," disappeared

Is sensation you occur.

My Wishlist, it is shorter than

The one proposed by Vedder,

Yet the bit about the ornament

I feel down to the letter.

So I would seek to offer this,

A simple thing, a token,

To whisper in your deepest heart

A bit of what's unbroken:

I'd rather you, robes, Chinese food,

Cartoons, and maybe ice cream

Than any other place, person, time...

Than any other dream.

So know if there is ever doubt,

Dwelt on in moments lonely,

If you, right then, could see my thoughts,

The best are of you only.