Nothing's a moving

left them..
curtains lit a darken
crest of old hue lamps a dampin,
Dripped along the sky
blue tapping, tick a tocking hands a hangin

let a sound it clicks
No laughter breaks, the law where nothing flicks,
Not even hiss of pott'ry
brought a sigh, it tried to fix

A hint it leaks no
presence, still, like writing pen a felt,
hid eerie voice that wept away
and life it had not dealt

and yet, still nothing's
A moving

-Francis