The Clock

As I think about the future
my eyes deepen in the clock
for with each tick I witness
The death I feared would knock..

When I slide between the hands of time
a fragment breaks the notch
the pieces start to tremble
breaking down the clock..

As I see the door slide open
the cuckoo hids beneath
a chime that I'm familiar
the one that I must free..

Oh how long I've waited
to see what's deep inside
this pain that I have lived with
is the broken piece I hide..

As I look among the wreckage
this clock is now no more
for now I see the Cuckoo
that hid beneath the door..

It flies above to witness
All it thought was last
For now it has the freedom
to fly without the past..

As I clean up all the pieces
my reflection in the glass
has taught me of the lessons
when I'm living in the past..

As refurbish of the pieces
place mosaics on my heart
I am free from sorrow
As I turn the past to art..

Tiffany V Beeny
1.6.2024