thomasunderlandaily

                                                     The words occupy the gaps silence just cannot fill.

                             Time's healing moves unhurried.

                        I am unable to stop watching,

                or give up the melancholy.

                                               To sit and contemplate the way the rain falls,

                            time's ceaselessness - the unknown.

I saw an old man,

             Stooped and consumed.

                         There was something in his eyes,

                 neither sadness, nor joy,

resignation.

                                    I wonder, in the end do we just become resigned to spend our time?