Somewhere else, it remains awake
by Tennae Maki
There was a thin line that ran the circumference
of the room. She was the only one that could see it.
Free of imperfections, a circle is perpetually,
habitually flawless.
The morning glory had been clipped from
it’s vine days ago.
It remained open, whilst the other buds
had returned to their dormant state.
It faded earlier than late.
Dawn.
—–
Tennae Maki is a weekend writer that works at an architecture firm. She’s also the volunteer audio archivist for an arts radio station.
