A Silenced Hour

Tick… Tock…

Tick… Tock…

Every second of every hour,

I sit,

Tick… Tock…

My hand moves again and again,

Moving in a consistent circle.

 

That circle carries my favorite memories.

From time to time when happiness breaks,

I store that moment,

Freeze it in stone for all eternal life to see,

From Generation to Generation I carry,

Lifting that weight upon my heavy shoulders.

 

Sometimes I hate it…

Those memories I store,

Some make me joyful,

Some make me cry rivers of tears,

Like his passing,

Or her death…

Those memories…

 

Tick… Tock…

That’s all I may say.

They say it’s taboo to speak otherwise,

So I just sit there,

Hanging upon that barren wall.

Walking forward in a constant direction,

Mouth tied with an invisible zipper…

 

Tick… Tock…

Tick… Tock…

Tick… Tock…

 

Reviews

[Patricia]

Time and memories are always a good recipe for poetry. Nicely done. :)