Some ticks are nursed under eyelids,
Some ticks burn inside the eyes,
They take a broken dream away with them,
Some ticks change sides.
They hide themselves in words, like a riddle,
Or laugh together with like a friend,
Some ticks haunt our breath.
They twinkle on the path of relationships,
They drown in the boats of eyes,
Some ticks decline like the setting sun.
These ticks are wayfarers, they keep moving,
Slowly, tick by tick, they'll be forgotten,
Walking slowly in their own tenor.