Little Clock
Tick, tock
I
tick,
tock,
this little clock.
Awoken by the same relentless day.
Colder rays, calendar crosses each away.
Wonder and excitement left long, arm in arm, long gone.
Pieces of paper now,
crumpled, wet and blemished
pass by each other on their separate.
They pay no mind to the clouds that outrace the wind above,
the sway of things green, the ripple of blue just outside the edge of this scene.
Once, I wanted to hold tightly this fist of all my years
Now,
I only, only wish the quiet of not knowing.
Tick, tock.
Oh, this looming, Giant, little clock.
tick.
About the Creator
Mark R. Cieslak
"Our lives are madness. Trying so hard to make moments, take moments. Nothing but pianos in a storm."
"I hear the singing."
"What singing? You never said..."
"Ah boy, what singing indeed."
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Comments (7)
nice one
This is beautifully written. Congrats on the TS.
Congratulations on achieving top story status!❤️❤️❤️
Thank you for making me want to wake up in the morning!
wow great job you can join my friends and read what i have just prepared for you
Nice piece♥️📝👍
Once, I wanted to hold tightly this fist of all my years - what a great line! Really enjoyed this in a sad, wistful sort of way.