A seed broke through the sky
springs up in my altar
and inside the coffin
personifying my numb skin
with the fluid still rolling deep
skyrocketing the clock hands
and winding the old spring toy
into unwanted motion
orbiting around the arms
of a poor grandmother,
needling the old hammer struck nails
into the thick ledge gliding down
like paper planes that I made
racing like pigeons on the tree tracks
taking note of the honking of the cars
and vehicles whose breath is taken in
by our already blood-filled, puffed lungs,
the clogged drains are unblocked
to let my friendship sail on the waves
of the boat with my hands on seek,
the tired soles of the shoes are worn out
sending a letter everyday now and then
whilst sitting in the mirror of colours.