Child Of Silence & Slow Time

An empty white jug in a blue basin now full to the brim the water trembling at each passing train now dry only evaporation & a dead fly inhabit its hollowness jug & basin (plain & unadorned) follow us around from town to town from room to room observing the seasons & their passings accepting our humble nakedness before them these our relics from Victorian times & ever present in these our modern times surviving an I am not amused monarch (& many blows & drops & knocks) offering us our pure ablutions washing these our human shores until all bitter chill it was water froze & it split along its impressive crack (resembling the eastern African coast) & so becoming part of our garden & home to a sunflower stretching to catch the sun as it passes.