|Original Photography by: +Lotus Carroll|
The clock is ticking in the lonely living room,
The owner suddenly sweeping in like a broom,
Begins his normal business for the day,
Has to make way for the date by the bay.
He was swift in action; time was a barrier,
He wondered if he would eventually be a carrier.
He missed the seconds, the wind blew,
She waited a second longer, becoming dew.
How the tears ran without being kind.
If only she knew that she ran in his mind,
And if only he knew she was running,
Running in the damp sand, stunning.
They were both runners in each other’s minds,
Each having a special part in the race that binds,
The long lasting ribbon that gathered,
All simple thought that they had mastered,
Now she remains like the clock,
Alone, afraid to be lifeless like the rock.