The words of misfortune

and loss of foresight

reaches my ears as the orange

seeps beneath the paper squares

Another pair of Attendants come

with white masks

appearing more starched

than before

Their words are polite

but filled with worry

but I cannot fathom why

I was not having the words

coming to me

The talk of clocks is a strange one

but rings within me

Deeply

when I notice an addition

to the company

of the two white masks