Nothing but in between
by Steven Clotzman

She sits in her room humming a tune
Of nothing but in between
It’s not so remote as she makes a few notes
About nothing but in between
Outside the window the light starts to fade
And rubbing her eyes, she leans back and sighs
For nothing but in between

“Time seems so through with us
And yet shapes us still”
While back in her head the thing she most dreads
Is perhaps it always will.

After a while she suddenly smiles
At nothing but in between
She picks up the pen, works through it again
This nothing but in between
Outside the window day starts to break
And then very soon she hears a faint tune
Of nothing but in between


© 2008 Steven Clotzman - all rights reserved