A tiny glass house sits on
The living room mantle,
Turned by
The shadows and lights passing through it.
The illusion grows
And inside it a trapped seed to flower,
Unfolding,
Pricked by the fractured walls
Rain traces the windows
And the glass house sinks,
So the flower drinks,
Resisting the sea's pressure
Yet still feeling underwater.
Green, Red, Orange
Filters of time flicker,
Until
Blue stays memorised
In the rotating stillness of the sky.
The glass house shifts,
And Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow will both miss.
As the house continues to sink
And flowers begin to swim.
