Notes on the Passage of Time

In empty rooms

filled with the scent

of nicotine and loneliness,

once shining

memories of bronze

turned verdigris

through harsh winters;

Breaths,

footsteps,

glances,

the dots and dashes

of life

rendered indecipherable

by the passing of time;

Its fragile tones

a melancholy tune

on an old music box

that echoes in empty rooms;

Bereft of

breaths

footsteps

glances.

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