Time Poem by Emily Angelova

Did you had enough ink
For all the words written in black
All your stories are my memories
Is there anyone left to hear them
Among the burrowing trees
The embers are left for me, I promise
Impartially spreading the leaves of time, the sand gets in the eyes
Counting the minutes
The feather leaving black spots on the words
Linearly nonrefundable
With their own stories
On the forgotten attic full of souls