Kesja Dabrowska

Water

Drip, drip, drip
Like the clock’s hands
the translucent drops fall down.
I seem petrified at the monotonous sound
so precious it is almost unthinkable
and yet you allow those beads to fall.
My stance is frozen in fear that they’ll stop…

Distinguished Writer of the ArtAscent “Magnificence” call for entry. To see the full body of work, grab a copy of the ArtAscent Art & Literature Journal “Magnificence” issue.

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