Slowly, time ticks on.
She trots along
the open road,
her destination unknown.
She knows not herself
why the clock tick-tocks,
nor why the pebbles and rocks
get kicked along the street,
all while she hums a hollow medley
of long-forgotten memories.
Even still,
she moves her feet
to a steady beat
in time to meet
the end of rhyme
and meaning.
The passage of the seasons
is heeded not by
she who walks
without reason.
Tyler DeWriter 