The cup of tea
I see
Is hot to touch.
But, in an hour —
Not so much.
My pristine desk:
A mess;
Clutter everywhere.
I search for things —
No longer there …
Wound-up clocks
Stop,
Standing oh so still.
Hands frozen —
With time to kill.
The Universe
Moves on,
Slowly winding down.
Imperceptibly shifts —
Without a sound.
& I watch,
Stunned
At the grace
Of its ill-at-ease —
Drifting in space.
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