Blur

Grinding away on the
Mortar and pestle, as
The clock spins a tune,
Like a blur, one moment
There, the next she is
Gone
Daylight wanes, tired eyes
Fall like curtains,
Still there in the longing
Hours, yet remaining
She gazes past him
Towards some distant future,
Here he sits, unrequited,
Trying to remember how to
Forget, the blur now stretching
Across time itself,
But in his heart,
He still feels the same.