Summer flies by like an airplane
Maple leaves fall down from trees in october.
The clock stops when there is eyes on it
When everyone is gone it runs.
The clock is running late. Late for 2025.
People glare at the clock and it stares back at me.
It stood like a statue before
The clock jumped on the moon and it told me it’ll stay.
The clock digs the flag's pole into Neptune's ground.
Everybody comes together and celebrates new years eve.
The clock left me after it promised it wouldn’t leave.
The clock is no longer able to be seen.
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Poetry journal
PoesíaPoems I have wrote/I'm writing (DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE COVER OR ANY OF THESE PICTURES OR PHOTOS.)
