Losing Track

16th March 2009

A world for you.
Artistic colours lining the surface
     of a forgotten wall.

Phantom.
A single person on a long, seemingly empty seat.
The colourful beads of a passenger with lime green
     shoes.

Walking, searching, a daily routine.
Silence. Number six, or seven.
The injured toe of a sincere girl
     dressed in black.
The things I love about normally being
     late; running my watch forward –
     in seemingly late preparation.
Yet – sometimes aware,
     sometimes unaware –
     of the seconds flying by a little too ahead.
Care to know; no –
     almost the echo of a song familiar and
     liked; to find I was wrong.
Often too eager for time of schedule to end.
A small plan, to do for today.
Priorities.
     Are we stopping, or are we at a constant speed?
     To reflect on what I had learnt,
     the speed of light.
I need to feel like I’ve got rocks in my eyelids.
Sunlight shines subtly through the windows.
A fence lines. A train has stopped –
     within the slow blinking of an eye,
     a light turns off.
The sparkle of a cluster of diamonds at
     the end of a riff.

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