Pull back the locks that hide your ear
There’s a novel read out by the breeze
In words so soft they could be lost
Or even blurred
From raindrops into brown puddles
As the world unwinds around itself
And seasons slowly undress trees.
So wait, stop by,
Let my voice linger down your neck
Let every phrase feel your contours
For words are sculptors too
Albeit shortlived; time dissolves them
Without mercy, without delay.
As they work on the masterpiece
And the future rolls into the past.