Clockwork
By 1stpoet
Clockwork The walls resound with echoes a constant drumming of ticks and tocks for there are many faces hung there those belonging to the clocks as I hear the ringing of the bells and the tone of each chime It is then I truly realize the passing of precious time for the turning of the gears within these lifeless pieces gives sound unto my ears and I know my life is passing what could I have changed in the elapsing of the hours was I in my life too rushed to stop and smell the flowers was I asleep when I should have woken to enjoy a sunny day or maybe I was quiet when I should have spoken and let love go astray were there moments I could have stopped and lingered for a while and held that fragile butterfly to give my face a smile or maybe rode the swing-set next to a nameless child then at eve enjoyed a sunset to make that day complete as the second hand advances those clicks I can’t ignore it is as if time is shattering falling to the floor if only I could take those fragments and place them in a stack but with time, once it is gone one can never get it back © Copyright 2001 1st Poet Inc. William S. Dawes November 9, 2001 Written November 25th, 2001 © on Nov 24 2001 11:34 PM PST 0 • 10
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"Clockwork..."