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