deepundergroundpoetry.com
CLOCKS
Tick, tick, tick….as
Closed eyes imagine the feel of the hands of his clock
Like melancholic waves brushing sweet streams of butterscotch
Lost in the moment as time becomes rhythmic - steady and slow
Loud is the clock inside my walls…
Ticking frantically as it unwinds
Closed eyes imagine the feel of the hands of his clock
Like melancholic waves brushing sweet streams of butterscotch
Lost in the moment as time becomes rhythmic - steady and slow
Loud is the clock inside my walls…
Ticking frantically as it unwinds
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