The deep blue bellow the withered sky
whispers the secrets of time.
Tired feet make little footprints on the sand;
tangled hair is unbothered by the wind;
and hands, lonely hands grasp a broken watch.

The lifeless sun shines before eyes that wander
where the mountains went to hide
when the petals gave to autumn
why distance made such claim.

Dark pupils see only the lonely rock
standing in the water,
unmoved by the soft roar of the night.