Second.

[icebluenothing]

The second hand spinning round
Points to sixtythreemillioneonethreethousandeighthundredfiftytwo

A second hand in mine
The carousel goes round again
No outstretched fingers, no straining arms
Just brass rings rainlike
Into overflowing pockets

Poems turned to kisses like sparks to fireworks
Light the touch-paper and never stand back
What's a finger or two between friends?
Just touch the paper lightly
Burn me your words and I'll do the same
Written, not even whispered,
Echoes of midnight lazy promises
Written not, even whispered

A second year so soon gone and still never soon enough those seconds
Between eyes that wake open and eyes that see yours

(and now we return and begin again)