O Passion Stopped All The Clocks

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.