inhale,
they blur
the cacophonies
bells chiming, creaking doors
the whir of machines
coffee, tea, voices, voices

exhale,
i am a clock in motion
ink-stained hands
the pen glides, stops
eyes closed and
time holds; lets go

life,
i'd write of the moments
where all seemed eternal
but these pauses
make us
human.

(A.H.Z)