Time Does Not Stop For Love

She grows out of her shoes

then out of diapers

then out of the sweaters I knit

before she was even born.

"I'm a big girl now, mama,"

she tells me.

Time does not stop for love.

His song, one of his own compositions, springs tears to my eyes
as he gently sings over his guitar.
He will leave for good this summer.
I still see him as eleven,
not this tall, confident young man.
Time does not stop for love.


My friend and I sit across the table
as I listen to stories of university life,
tales that echo my own past
as a guitarist in college,
when music and late nights
and deep conversations
were all I needed.
Time does not stop for love.


We approach the five year mark.
Some things don't change:
he still hates soup and tea,
I still can't remember our anniversary date,
he still drinks more Mountain Dew than I think is necessary,
I still insist on listening to "that horrible pop music" on the radio.
We hold hands on our walk
as if it was only yesterday
that we were strolling across the campus together
on our way to music history.
Yet we discover new things about each other
every year
that make us love
all the deeper.
It is good to have him by my side.
Time does not stop for love.