I while away a second
a minute
an hour
no time to waste
staring at the colors move
wondering where the thought moved to
that had sat patiently waiting
for capture before it was led astray
down the rabbit hole.
Hours to days
to weeks
to months slipping past
like spilt tea down the confines
of space, running into each opening
where emptiness had sat
now swims in shimmering liquid
like a laugh at the wrong time.
Spiral moves of skies above
from nothing to something
back to a slow simmer
to a cool-to-touch
and I reach for the holder forgetting
that the time has passed
and it’s okay to handle,
but where did it go
that second
that minute
that hour that left me stranded
watching colors for lack
as the sky poured down
and the tea party broke up
and I hold the empty cup
wondering what it had ever held.
Peace, Love and Patchouli 