Wednesday, August 16, 2006

..the ticking..

It slipped through fingers as water from a stream
As do the song of robins die just merrily
(And hushed snow falling upon an aging tree)
While evening sunlight brushes against our cheek
It laughed with children as echoes usually do
As well as mirrors reflect just little truth
(And glass which shatters only to be cleaned)
While sweeping mothers move to their own beat
It sang another lullabye as quiet as could be
As do the diamond stars whisper with soft light
(And grandfather clocks chime a closing hour)
While time continues passing downy as a feather

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