Too many days are all the same The will has left, the inert pendulum silent, no longer marking time Glass menagerie collecting dust A ghost town of frail figurines Lifeless the sheen, pail from coatings of yesterday Not even the trace of a fingerprint to announce interest Tawas a time, excitement from the prospect of a new-collected piece, while much deliberation was given to its placement Diligently, maintenance provided, dusted and polished Imagination carrying fantasies of amusing situations and images Laughter recounted when viewed by innocent eyes Now the foundations mirrors will not reflect what was or what is Each days accumulation, another layer, each layer a little duller Soon the only connection, a web, thin and translucent, linking one to the other Paralyzed fragile pieces of glass, drowning in a sea of negligence Your name whispered into a box of mementoes Awaiting for renewed curiosity of another generation