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new time

An over wound clock holds no time.
It holds the space for ticking yet to come.
I have no patience for subtleties.
I drink unfiltered water, and pray it will nourish.

You present me with worn boots, and ask to me to believe they are new.
My jeans are worn, and I ask you to believe they still fit.
Moments have a way of slipping by unseen, unused, un-cared for.
Each timepiece you gift to me shatters. Every jewel begs for polishing.

The wind asked me to write you. It teased with expectations
I long to have, and flirted with a new futures.
I confess, I tried new clothes today; they felt smooth
and silky. I bought a skirt. I opened my blouse a little and let
the sun take a peek. I felt shameless in my warmth.

I danced along a foreign beach and collected new memories.
I released you to the ocean, and even the whales
sang me a song. You have been met, and I give you
grace to leave. Swim to new shores, and be free.


About Trish Noble

Trish Noble. Dreamer. Writer. Artist. Thinker. Ponderer. Observer. Spouter of Opinions.

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