Time

On a beautiful spring night
I heard, with some delight
The gentle tick tock
Of a long deceased clock.

Time is always there.
Yet I care
For the tick tock
Of an individual clock.

Each, separate timepiece
Must,
One day
Cease.

And I shall go away,
And all the philosophy discussed,
Shall turn to dust.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.