4 O Clock

4
The blinds, eyelids
Closed against
Afternoon heat
The fan hums
In monotony
Amusing itself
A mechanical dog
Chasing it tail
Swishing, slow and rhythmic
The parrots
In the palm tree
Try to be neighbourly
Grown tired of
Screeching
At each other
The rose,
Its stem
Stands in water
Quenching its thirst
To no avail, drinking
And dying at one
Was supposed to rain
But the sun
Didn’t approve
The clouds, full of promise
Were disappointed
They were ignored
It’s 4 o clock
Not that it matters
It just is
Soon it will be
5 o clock
That won’t matter either

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badgerslabyrinth

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