Like sand on a cut
before me stretches a blanket
of plumeria blossoms
ravaged by the rain
brief in their beauty
against the cold grey floor

Tideless, these days
spilling from one misunderstanding
to another
Placid, the lines on my face
setting already,
as if sculpted in stone
Eyes blank,
unexpectant,
embracing the complacency
of
'what is to come'

The future shrouds
many mysteries,
little one,
like a metronome
ticking away
at the back of the room,
luring your trusting heart
at each tick
with the promise
of a gasp.