Silent current
Just like the water polishes a cobble after cobble and the sharpness with the stream is falling away, all these little things get smaller all the time of the day travelling with the silent current as they wobble in my mind and the image I keep is fading in a haze just like a very old ink written on an ancient parchment it disentangles as a beloved but threadbare garment it resembles to the feeling and the look upon my face will I then forget how you look and who you are or will I miss you every morning less and less on a certain moment finding your presence even bizarre ...