Pieces of life

There is a clock
On your shoulder
And its tiny hands
And invisible pendulum
Beat the life
Out of you
Minute by minute
Hour by hour
The bugs and flies
Scatter 
Like dust 
In artificial breeze
Yet time limps
On
As eyelids flicker
To fight 
The inevitable 
There is no flight
From here
There is no-one 
With whom to form 
A flock
And as much as 
You'd like to
The pause button
Is stuck
There is no way
Of freezing this moment
Of stopping the steady 
Drip
Time will have its way
Drawing shadows 
On the people 
Around you
Scratching lines into
Once familiar faces
Turning hair 
To the colour
Of miserable 
Slush
This march 
Of death
Is arduous 
And necessary
And inescapable 
And you gaze 
At your once perfect 
Hands
Now fixed into claws
And you try 
To capture the pieces
Of your life
As they fall 
From the sky
Key moments 
And important memories
Burn 
Before your eyes
Frantically 
You scratch
At their tiny flakes
Of ash
But alas
It is too late
The moment has gone
The eye has completed 
Its life-shattering
blink
As you
And your life 
Evaporate
You wish 
That you'd paid more 
Attention
Taken more notice 
Made your mark
On the world 
Or at least 
Made more of an effort
To enjoy yourself
Before the ride
Stopped 

 

◄ Looking Glass

Bombay Train ►

Comments

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Harry O'Neill

Thu 7th Aug 2014 23:30


Yup!...that`s the way it goes.

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