One Hundred Words A Day
Monday, November 29, 2010
The Clock
I look at the clock and it stares back at me
open faced, empty of expressions,
its mouth and nose missing
It seems to blink
behind the still hands.
I look away and it signals me,
by a tremulous trick,
the devil has stolen a second
of my life.
while I looks on.
Its hands is the mouth that speaks
and the mouth warns me in simple signals
that it--the clock--steals
life. The most precious commodity.
There's no way to get it back. ¶ 12:02 PM 0 Comments
I look at the clock and it stares back at me
open faced, empty of expressions,
its mouth and nose missing
It seems to blink
behind the still hands.
I look away and it signals me,
by a tremulous trick,
the devil has stolen a second
of my life.
while I looks on.
Its hands is the mouth that speaks
and the mouth warns me in simple signals
that it--the clock--steals
life. The most precious commodity.
There's no way to get it back. ¶ 12:02 PM 0 Comments
