Static Time: Late night poetry

The lead ticks quietly on a paper
barely heard.
In static time, she and he sit still.
Smiling frozen smiles.
Thinking thoughts that will never be known.
And another is nowhere to be found.
Where did he leave to?
And another answers the phone in the same solemn tone,
“This is…”
And another walks with a teapot half full in hand,
glass cups clicking.
And others run with all their power to break free
from the last few hours.
Why are you here? They plead.
Why am I here?
And I wander.
Lost in the unchanged.
Surroundings unchanged.
Static time.
Did I find the dynamic?


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