Waiting

In the heart of the room, a clock stood still,
time suspended, in an endless return.
A flower blooms, silent and serene,
in a mute dialogue with time that won’t run.
The petals unfold, like secrets revealed,
while the hands remain motionless and silent.
An hour, a minute, hold no meaning now,
only the beauty of the present, within this space.
The flower and clock, in an invisible embrace,
speak of eternity, of life and mystery.
In the silence, they find an unspeakable voice,
a dialogue without words, pure and sincere.