Aalix Roake

The Days Go by Without Me

I move through time at a languid pace. Nothing much disturbs the sullen peace around me except the very occasional phone call, usually my sister or a telemarketer. Everyone else has given up. I have become a living cliché of retreat and silence. Life needs a plot, like a novel. But my life no longer has one, nor do I want one.

quiet afternoon
grey gulls floating
in the steady rain