PERFORMERS

Standard

 Swift minutes now in a fix, ticks
like a thixotropic clay drop,
Feathery air hangs on like a heavy
veil of hazed fogginess,
Friendly faces all in strange new stares, a
sudden stigma or an unmindful bearing,
Smiling talks and gleeful words ceased to exist,
lapse of good omen or a splash of evil?
Smell of decisive moments, makes the world
a speechless spectator, lo! you solitary performers….

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