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Click hereIs it too much
to ask him to stop? I suppose
the ticking clock
has resounded in my ear
the reality that time bites
into my little world.
With the click, tick
coming closer
closer
while I hold up my hand
and then a second hand
saying stop.
But this man, like a clock,
only moves forward
and with time
leaves creases in my brow.
Father Time ~ just like a man ~ won't listen to you and gives you worry lines on your brow.
...the cycle that measures length of moments (~_~) I enjoyed your poem (~_~)
that seems to set time in motion to a distant beat. I thought it was very interesting and leaves food for thought. I'll have to read it again and again. Thanks.