The Day I Saw the Colours in the Stones

The day I saw the colours in the stones,

I began to hear the tick of the Grandfather clock

Growing slower and weaker.

 

Always doling out sagely advice,

Advice that could only be considered

Divine intervention.

 

Though they shade grey

I always found his eyes to be the most beautiful shade of brown,

If one could consider that colour so pure.

 

I may not have gotten the full circle

but my segment has been enough

I watch and wait for the crumbling

My eyes will always water

My throat will always make it harder for me to swallow

As I try to force down the feelings that I know will only grow stronger if I try to touch them

 

Break down?

To be so selfish as to bring grief upon myself

would displease his nature

 

He has been waiting by the gate

Time nor place has dissuaded him.

Like a fruit with a thought

he knows when the time is right to depart from the leafy domain.

– Summer

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