The End of Time

She has no words;
the petals drop
from her finger tips
like autumn leaves.

Her lasting sigh echoes
the passing
of the geologic songs,
and the touch of her
lips

drops

          like whispers into a canyon.

Silence.

Slow, and then unmoving.

The lights first fade
and then return
in retroflection,
sundown
and then sun up,
and all night vigil
I lie propped up
on one elbow,
then leaning,
then lancing the dawn
more sighing,
and then sleep.

I wonder how long
the wheels will turn
unattended.

I hardly hear them
at all anymore.

Sun down and sun up,
sleeping and then sighing.

Is the universe
over already?

runningturtle87