The Ticking of Clocks.

I hear the ticking

Of all the clocks,

Begin the unpicking

Of all the locks;

There’s a net

Between us, she’s

So fantasy-glamourous –

But so hard-eyed,

Unattainable, yet she’s

Always there for me.

Sometimes I half believe

There’s a face at my window

Looking in, and

I’m looking at me

twenty years down the road:

Wanting to drink

Every book between

Now and Hell.

I was high and free,

Life unutterably smooth

 Then it wasn’t.


2 thoughts on “The Ticking of Clocks.

  1. Liz Gray says:

    Whoa!! I love this!! Yummy! Love the last line…then it wasn’t! Tell me…that’s why we write!

  2. beeseeker says:

    Hi Liz, thanks for the encouragement and good words.

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