Afterwards
By adam
Mon, 02 Nov 2009
- 667 reads
Afterwards
Empty in the hot afternoon
The room captured a silence
That framed all of eternity,
I remember a clock somewhere ticking,
Recording its victory
Over the already defunct hours,
Later there were words
The feeble explanations
That half insult the infinite,
That moment though held nothing,
Save the dancing of dust motes
And some hand moving to lay
A flower against your pillow
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