Mr. Mr. Clock
Clock strikes 4pm.
Clock came racing down.
Didn’t know the race was on.
Didn’t know the dust had settled.
Didn’t know my scent was left lingering.
I was just seated. Alone. Lonesome. Lonely. Single.
Retracted.
I was just seated. Honored. Guarded. Walled. Single.
You came along. Brought your broom. Brought your dust bin.
Here we are and the clock strikes 4pm
In love,
My heart goes –
Tick Tick Tick Tick
In love,
My heart goes –
On forever
Because I’m the man without a clock.
I’m the man without time.
Because I’ve been bought and I’ve been sold.
I’ve been living on borrowed time.
It’s 4pm.
Time to get wed.
© 2022 David Greg Harth
22.11.11.15:31:30@130BklynNYC