Metalic stickiness of a coin doused in ice cream: 

Melting, melted, muddied. 

Dripping over onto an old wooden bench: 

Spilling, spilled, splattered. 

 

A patchwork of dark green flaking paint,  

Light pink strawberry cream, 

Dark denim of a pair of jeans. 

The click of a clock flush against the palm of your hands,

cocooned by only your restraint. 

 

Wait a minute longer and you’ll find that it’s slipped away.

Under floorboards and daydreams. 

Under the spout of a kitchen sink and a cupboard, always clean. 

Grasp it with your fingers, at the dawn of each day,

Your haven isn’t heaven if it’s never seen the sun, 

Share it with the grass, the meadows, or it’s going to run.