clockwork

Thought, knew it all.
The verses, the colors, and the stories.
A day, long gone. Perhaps, a September.
Thoughts were left to pickle,
In a tightly shut jar

Yesterday smelled a whiff. Pungent.
Not what I thought was brewing,
Like finding stale broth in a freshly heated oven.
Looked away. Other senses reigned havoc.
Yet again. Clockwork. The turn of events.

Silks.Flowers.Scarves.Wine.
Oysters, the pearl left behind,
Floating away, keeping the mirage alive.
Drank from it. It pretended to quench thirst.
Believed. Tick-tock. The turn of events.