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the old mahogany clock in the corner ticks its solemn song
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the tarnished hour hand slides closer and closer to twelve o'clock
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the weights that pull the aged metal gears sway back and forth hypnotically
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my foot bounces with no rhythm on the floor, clashing with the simple metronome-like beat of time
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the sounds of life slowly fade and I lose track of the time that I've been staring in the face
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they say time flies when your having fun but I'm not having fun
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snail like, the seconds crawl by, molasses
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please hurry love for we don't have all the time in the world
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the old mahogany clock in the corner ticks its solemn song as I wait in a chair with uneven legs that are marred with the scratches of the nails of those who have waited here before and the ground which is covered in the scuff marks of all the shoes of the feet that have bounced in anxiety
tick
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YOU ARE READING
Poems of the lost
PoetryHere are some random poems I write when I feel like it. I hope you enjoy. p.s. the cover image isn't mine
