The ticking clock
Sweats in anticipation
Twists up it’s gears
And fiddles it’s frame, just right.
The only way to know
Is to go through the journey.
The bookshelves murmer
Gossiping sounds of
Shuffling pages
Hiding straight inside their place
The only way to find
Is to search in the wrong places.
The windows
Look into their reflection
Wondering who will close them
Shut.
The only way to be
Is to find the answer for
Yourself.
The chair swivels
In anxiety.
Making scars on the floor.
Looking for it’s desk.
Caeli's Words 