I turn my back, and in that second
you flutter into a pile of flakes.
There an eye, there a fingertip.
Before I return, your second divides into millennia.
Flakes find each other and adhere,
at random, but do.
You smile, as if nothing had happened.
Then you blink, and in that dark line
I fly around the room,
orbit the Earth and back.
At the end of your second, I smile too.