Short Stories/ Poetry: If time could stop

it will be

with the strange softness

that we set off with 4:27 pm on

our minds, an ever lingering

sensation of your racing car heart

and the tension on my mind.

ii.

i dream a dream of a dream,

of people floating into a void

of memories, and

of the quiet, where we venture

into the open space of a world

where worry is a word that

lacks a meaning

iii.

but reality is a flash of a photograph

sweeping us off our feet.

and we float (yes, we float)

on storm clouds like water droplets

to rain into the universe of the

hopefully serene reality.

iv.

these days we sit in hallways,

legs crossed and heads bent,

craned in the search of sound.

but only the quiet returns.

Germaine Ong (3 Purity)

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