I am unwinding a clock,
hoping it stops
at a time that has yet to have been.
I have never seen
the age that I want
time just flaunts its face at me.
I fear that I’ve found
here on the ground
something worth keeping around.
I’m not alive if
I don’t recognize it,
I’m a ghost in the night on a town.
Still I’m unwinding the clock
Hoping it stops.
Distance means nothing to drifters,
we blow around like the breeze.
Never known to wear out a welcome
how brief our next visit might be.
We sure do unwind,
a little each time
what is it, but puzzles you see.
When I’ve unwound what was
aloft in the clouds
with a head full of buzz from the bees.
As I whimsically unwind a clock
Hoping it stops,
at a moment where I’m in love.
Not the torment I’m the cause of.
Not a blistering welt of heat that strains,
nor cold that whispering steals our names,
nor sickening cells that creep our brains;
an instant free of keenly detailed pain.
I just want it all to stop!
So, I’m back to unwinding this clock,
Hoping it stops.
Winding it back,
back to the end,
or the beginning, I didn’t intend
it to work, but here I am ;
trapped in a moment
that slips through the hands.
Another spring snaps
and the gears misalign
and I’m left holding pieces of what’s left of time.
All I’ve unwound is bound up in my mind.
A memory fading with each parade stride
We march round the dial with smiles inside
Faces set stoic all we tell is what hour is now,
I guess I can’t unwind a clock,
I don’t know how.
