Under watchful eyes,
you seem never moving one bit.
And, finally, when I catch a stir,
each tick is the thud
one hears before the sudden halt
of footfalls.

Nonetheless, I want you moving
[and I don’t mean around an axis]
at a closer look when:
I see clouds crawl
under blue skies,
and nights seep over the land.

A lifetime could be over
any minute I’d look away.
But, I look away—
breathing in the time
you’re taking away with your motion.

© Gheeneil


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