2017, poetry, Syllable Tapestries

ticking of the clock

There’s silence
except for the ticking of the clock.
can you hear it.
the weight of it.
yes the weight of it;
simply put;
the heart’s hiding a tick here
and another one there.
And you wonder
where those seconds went

I remember the days
when there were hands on the clocks,
and I could sit there
watching those shaky hands
slowly tick around the face.

as often as you gaze through me.
I can only ask from you
is the truth.
and the time.
confused and stumbling
down the sidewalk,
just knowing
there’s no way
I’ll ever get
to the end of this street
without falling on my face,
with those hands
ticking
around
telling me it’s time.

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