Penultimate

The waters of time came trickling by
A faded hue to the night Winter sky
Yellow stars, no white sparkle fly
Dark moonless night
The bedrocks now dry 
Crumbled dust
Blown away                                                                                                                         
False boredom demands
A new game to play.
                                                                                                                    
                                                                                                                           

What defines us changes constantly / 2014