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


The only way to be

Is to find the answer for


The chair swivels

In anxiety.

Making scars on the floor.

Looking for it’s desk.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s