As treading chalk aligns a sudden stalk,
Unraveling sirens persist to the harrowment of the guards
When posing in passing, the sprite walks off the clock
Into musings and written soldiers who'd taken the ride, taken it off
Just before the volume proceeded beyond a quiet knock,
The past-tense prudence starts the car waiting patiently around the block
Revving the moment which never was, never will be, at all...
Copyright © Zhian Mostofi