Passiflora

A poem. A loop. Decaying.

Photo by Shyam Sundar on Unsplash

Piano plays just two chords.
Over and over.
River flows twice.
Softer, softer.

Somewhere in the centre of the mountain,
lies a tunnel and inside it a song plays
out for her.

It loops and loops.

Piano plays just tw chords.
Ov r and ov r.
R ver fl ws tw ic e.
Softer, sof er.

Somewhere to the left of centre of the mountain,
lies a tunnel and inside it a song plays
out for us.

It loops and loops.

Slowly, beautifully, decaying
in time.