“Love Clock” by Walter W. Quinn III
This clock of ours, seconds clicking,
Time's minute hands are twitching.
As time passes, events unfold,
But Time slows as things are told.
Hear her laugh? It's a riot.
Seems Mother has adopted a diet.
As the timekeeper rings, brings tomorrow toward,
The door opens, closes, swinging forward.
As Father Nature brings spring snow
And Mother Time decides to show
Her favorite lines and memories true
Our clock has become one of me and you.
Watch the dial, the stone begins a crack,
As fun and games we begin to lack.
Watch the hands, beginning to split,
As love decays and lovers flit.
Is it true? Surely not.
Love is not something old to rot.
But then why is it what we demand
Only exists in a far off land?
As shadows move and form their own,
Red lines form and move, hear that moan?
As liquid life drips out of me,
Watch as love becomes all you see.
The hole in the middle begins to cave,
The organ beating yet none it can save.
My flowers drooping, turning dull,
Chocolate stale, and movie lull.
The story revealed, plots are sewn,
Watch as the Actor's traits are shown.
Time will tell, they always say.But she doesn't want to play.