The Unnecessary Line Of Time

The Unnecessary Line Of Time

The morning spreads its quiet over streets,

Shadows stretch like fingers along the walls,

I trace the outline of yesterday in the dust,

And the cat still refuses to speak.

Windows flicker with memories not mine,

The clock counts seconds that have no weight,

I open doors I never meant to find,

And the cat still refuses to speak.

A letter lies unopened on the table,

Its edges curling like the edges of my thoughts,

I remember the sound of rain in another city,

And the cat still refuses to speak.

Time folds back on itself, unreadable,

Steps echo softly in the hallways of sleep,

A door slams somewhere I cannot see,

maybe my mind closing the open door.