It is like the ticking clock, unheardin the corner of a room – caughtbefore a full rotation the walnut scroll work liftingas each breath grows in anticipationsinking as nostrils expel melancholyinto the pause, the widening gapbefore the chime
It is like the ticking clock, unheardin the corner of a room – caughtbefore a full rotation the walnut scroll work liftingas each breath grows in anticipationsinking as nostrils expel melancholyinto the pause, the widening gapbefore the chime