Whispering Hourglass

It's just my sense of deja vu
when the curving road falls
into hues of chromatic red
and perfect blue, yet still
my thoughts turn back to you,
your sheepish ways, and lonesome
gaze - it's all or nothing
in this phase, but in the end
you know it pays to count
the minutes, not the days.
And after bygone afternoons,
we'll recite honeyed words
and croon, with only muted hearts
attune to one another's
candid swoon.