Forensic Science

Moment by moment
Time silently passes,
Waiting for no man
But leaving trace on my glasses
Of everything I’ve done and seen
Through all the moments in between:
Sound forensic evidence
Recording all the elements
Of my personal life and times
Which, reading in between the lines,
Amounts to little more than dust
To which my eyes too easily adjust,
With fingerprints forensicating
All I’ve hitherto undertaken,
Leaving microscopic trace
Across this costly, windowed place
Of every single destination
Passed in daily occupation…
I shudder to think what might be seen
Across the lenses in between
Me and my myopic state,¹
The stuff that I accumulate
A rich and yet invisible trail
Relating a somewhat mundane tale
A microscopic kind of mire
That, when I finally expire,
Will provide a curiously accurate record
Of an ordinary woman
Who sometimes gets bored….

 

¹Unable to see past the end of my own nose…

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