Shop window muse

Glistening watches stare through the shop window
Folded In purposeful rows
Polished
Reflecting artificial light.
A hundred ticking hands
motion a reminder
Of moments that can never be recaptured.
Gone before its here
Here before its there.
A constant flux
Never waits for the wicked
Or best intentions.
Garbled static radio emits from behind the counter
Mirroring A deep seeded feeling
Of
Waves rolling
Misunderstood
In Unarticulated purpose.
Muses in the strangest of places

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