Clocks

What do we do

To make the time pass?

We cook clean and tidy

Run read and make appointments

Plan social engagements weeks ahead

Take holidays in exotic places

All to make the time pass

 

How slowly it passes the time

The hands of the clock hardly moving

As we wait by the telephone

Check the mail

Wait to see a familiar script hear a familiar voice

And the time passes so slowly and so painfully

How we long for winter to be over

 

I met a man who worked with time

He made clocks

Huge clocks tiny clocks cuckoo clocks

Big booming clocks and little fussy cog and spring

Clickety-click watches

Red blue green steel painted hands and faces

And clocks that played music

He hummed to himself as he fashioned the clocks

He had no time to ponder the passage of time

 

But I saw that when eventually the springs of then clocks

Wind down and the music stops playing

And the fly wheels stop spinning

And the hands tremble once twice and stop moving

All that remains of the time that has gone

Are the expressionless painted faces

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© Johnmichael Simon

2005

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