Tick-

winds over this shallow sea
where violet evenings rise and fall
like a hypnotized tide
whisper like the last monsoon;
the taste of rain, the smell of salt,
and the soft, muted ticking
of the Clock
beneath peaceful waters.

winds over this shallow sea
where smokey sunsets rise and fall
like a hypnotized tide
whisper like lovers’ farewells;
the taste of rose, the smell of ink,
and the soft, harmless ticking
of the Clock
muffled in peaceful waters.

winds over this shallow sea
where dusty gold mornings rise and fall
like a hypnotized tide
whisper like haunted laughter;
the taste of ash, the smell of sun,
and the soft, stifled ticking
of the Clock
imprisoned in peaceful waters.

winds over this shallow sea
where ebony midnights rise and fall
like a hypnotized tide
whisper like quiet amnesia;
the taste of loss, the smell of sleep,
and the ever-present ticking
of the Clock
awake under peaceful waters.

Wait.

T. E. Pyrus

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