When The Bells Chime

You light a cigarette softly in your lips
And it sends a smoke screen, a fleeting message.
You utter empty words taking coffee sips.

Surfaces of art on your stony image
Where a cake of makeup hides marks of ageing
Leaving me with a future to envisage.

Thoughts for a funeral procession to sing
But sounds of music could not stick to the ears.
How could notes carry a life through death living?

And writing words cannot hold the fluid tears
Which dance down the face. Dance cuts a space in time
But can not hold the memories of past years.

But you whisper, "beauty comes when the bells chime,
Beauty lasts because it's lost when the bells chime."