penguins are sweeter when
they're made of pacific, particolored plastic
furry, cute as a button, ticking;
a big ben on a quiet night.
noon;
its life beginning at the same
time as hers; their fates bound
to each other as they become
inseparable.
the clock strikes one;
tea parties and feathered boas
furry black and white becomes
Brown and gray from adventures
Taken without a map to lead them.
the clock strikes two;
solitary tea parties turn to
days outside playing house
she becomes a pet,
to sit, play, do tricks.
the clock strikes three;
house turns to truth or dare,
what once was a joy
turns to an embarrassment
her imagination shot from
the sky to meet the hard ground.
the clock strikes four;
truth or dare turns to
mountains of papers and pens
trying to please someone else
she loses her meaning
in a sea of expectations.
the clock strikes five;
black and white meets the
inside of a drawer, damp and
musty, the magic it once held
now confined to loneliness.
the clock strikes six;
the someone becomes more
papers and pens turn to
shy smiles and timid glances
she makes her own magic.
the clock strikes seven;
the someone turns evil
smiles turn to yells
and slamming doors
and she is left to
pick up the pieces.
the clock strikes eight;
a new someone comes along
with happier smiles
wnd christmases become brighter
despite the judgemental glances
the clock strikes nine;
that someone becomes the someone
the someone becomes the one
smiles and happy tears become common
a single diamond seals their fate.
the clock strikes ten;
church bells and white dresses
fill the room, and there is
not a glimpse of unhappiness in sight
as those beautiful words are said.
the clock strikes eleven;
white moves from the dresses to
the walls, the happiness mixed with
worry, which vanishes as a single
cry fills the room.
midnight;
the clock has a new someone
brown and gray becomes black
and white as it gets a someone
of its own again. They would be
inseparable.
