I turn my pen to paper
to ease the shallow swell.
These waves that race through time and space,
paint my heart in grey pastel.
I question the clock as it ticks;
the kingdom and the key.
“Please stay your hands, I don’t understand
why this has to be?”
But the clock, it stares and spins it’s gears,
“What about our years? When we disappear,
do their stories go unheard?”
But still it turns and clicks and churns
keeping count in everlast.
“Tell me please, will my memories
echo forward from the past?”
And it was in this moment I found my peace;
My spirit held aloft.
Interlaced in warm embrace
Smiling at the stalling clock.
December 15, 2015