What the Clock Said

by Cedric Lowe

4.4(187)
When I was young, the afternoons were countries with no border known, and summer hummed its lazy tunes through fields where I could walk alone. But somewhere in my thirties, time began to run a different race— the hours lost their easy rhyme, the days picked up a stranger's pace. Now Tuesday bleeds through Wednesday's door, and months go by like passing cars. I swear that I've been here before— same intersection, same red stars. The clock says nothing I don't know. It only says: you ought to go.
89 words · 14 lines · Rhyming
lifemetaphorpersonificationrhymerhyming
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