by Anthony Tan
Kirkland, QC

time has little meaning in
this place which I have found.
like the oak, she sits and stares
and like the stream, he flows around

where once they gripped and shouted
now here they make no sound.
he does not speak, or even sigh
her branches are unwound

the shadows do not waver and
the crickets do not bound.
the grass is dull, the soil still,
the stones are in a mound

once, the clouds rushed up above
and white moon shone so round
now, the stars do naught but blink
and disappear without a sound

she gave him leaves and laughter
he gave her pebbles drowned
green like saplings in a field
blue like lips unbound

it falls to me to speak the word
yet still there is no sound
no silent speech, no second breath
no syllables around

they do not blame me though
how could they? they have found
their place and I have mine, this place
of roots and lilies drowned

and time is all I have to know
within what I have found
but time has little meaning in
this place which I have found

Anthony is a student, writer, and filmmaker who has lived all over Canada. He hopes to continue exploring new places, cultures, and worlds - someday. Find more of his poetry at

Social Distanziner - Toronto, ON