My old blue armchair
Is still there
By the wooden bookcase.
In that space
I sat and read
As the antique clock ticked
My day away.
,
Here, no clock ticks
And my need
Is for these antibiotic drips.
But how I miss
My old bookcase
And the ageing armchair where
I read the day away.
.
When I return again
To my own private place
The tick tock
Of my old clock
From high on the bookcase
Will teach me humility.
.
Copyright: Kevin Morris.
I have heard the tick tock
Of my old clock
And listened to young women’s feet
Beating out a rhyme
Of passing time
On the indifferent street
Where loneliness meets,
For a little while,
With a smile
Cold as gold.
The ageing poet deals
In rhymes of passing time.
As girls in heels
Laugh as they pass by.
Their minds are not
On the ticking clock,
Nor on poets who sigh
As they heedlessly pass by.
When my busy thoughts
For a moment, stop,
I become aware
Of the clock
Ticking away my day.
I may turn away
And write.
But old Time
Will not delay
The night
To accommodate my rhyme.
K Morris - Poet 