O Passion Stopped All The Clocks Poem by Mark Heathcote

Who am I to address
Her flagon red dress
Each wan of summer
Each wan of winter
Each mead, sweet, equinox
Passion stopped all the clocks.

Who am I, to romance
In her amber dance
Like a firefly.
Brashly, resting, espy
That unblemished flower
Awaiting that dew-lit glower.

"O, who, is I", but her lover?
A fig root baring springtide fruit
Whom all autumn left a hover
Like a bloom amidst the shoot
Each cool noon frozen night
Until her kiss defrosts the frostbite.

Who am I?
But the one, the only one
Who needs never question why?
Or fear her fickle, shun
Cause I'm a firefly in her web
The only one admitted into her bed.

O who is I, but her morning, rapture?
As long as she doesn't quarrel
I'll let all other birds and bees proffer
Sing, dance, holler and jostle
Each mead, sweet, equinox
O passion stopped all the clocks.