Untimed, she chains herself in song
slips words to sky,
stills her heartbeat
to trebled moon.
Too soon, she finds the world bleeds by
and steals her breath;
her slanted sigh
a troubled pause.
Just cause for holding all things loose,
a quiet truce
with empty hands.
Blank page, she stands.
This is a variation of the “minute” poetry form, for Quickly.
Head over and check out the prompt.