Easy to imagine in the silence.

A mid-term test I just wrote.

His presents suffocates me and gives me air.

Blowing in the wind.

A poem.

A grandfather clock’s poem.

Tick tock! time’s running out. things are changing fast but no one seems to care.
whether I believe or not, whther you believe or not, time will tell… because it will end. and what will you do then… tick tock!

Poem.

When you wake up at five in the morning or two or whenever it is still dark but considered morning, would you be able to tell the difference between night and day?

A villainelle I wrote about time and how every second that ticks away on the clock is another second lost forever.