The Clock
Looking at the clock ticking my life away
Sitting at my table, looking at the clock, its long finger pointing at the minutes, while the shorter finger holds the hours down like a thumb pushing in a tack to hold time still, but nothing stops the orbit of those fingers. Outside the wind is blowing and the trees bend and sway in the wildness of this cold, grey day, while I look at the clock, its fingers ignorant of the wind and the beating of my heart, or what is ha...