Time Change
In my morning walk, I pass the dialysis center.
An ambulance stands, a silent sentinel,
Marking someone’s end.
The world is still stretching, half-asleep.
Streetlights hum. The air is thick with waiting.
Before the shop awakens,
I stand, a silhouette,
Against the darkened glass.
Inside, the baristas stir,
Faces etched with fatigue,
Eyes dull from interrupted sleep.
As the door swings open, masks slip into place,
Smiles painted on tired lips,
Greetings like clockwork, mechanical yet warm.
I fold into the corner, another shadow among shadows.
Coffee trickles down, black and bitter,
Awakening the body, stirring the soul.
Here, I am a fixture, part of the walls.
We drift, tethered to small rituals.
As the morning breathes, I rise to leave,
Not alone in this, but part of its pulse.
