Still, flat hands
tick time away-
filling up boxes,
making empty space.
I don't know this form
and who it is for.
only stay and still
wait and count
the passing clouds
each passing hope-
hope for time, hope none is waste
hope whatever it is was worth the wait
but then there is more time
and there is more space.
It's a long time to look and see
only one flat, still clock face.
