Unwinding

Dust was blown,

time still ticked,

reliable

as clockwork.

 

Time progressed;

had we progressed?

Replacing manual

with batteries?

 

The clock still ticked

it’s hands still worked

unlike ours, that

grew idle;

 

too wound up,

watching the clock

believing we didn’t 

have time.

Janette Ostle
Jul 23 2020

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Comments:

I love poetry that leaves you reflective, which this does.

Rod Webb
Jul 25 2020