Late Night Hour: ClocksA Poem by Inkfathom
The Late Night Hour: Clocks
One clock, Two clocks, Three clocks four I simply can't stand the ticking anymore. The hour is late yet the clocks are awake more so than I, and they've yet to take a break. I cover my ears in hopes of fading into a deep tickless sleep which I've been belating. Debating whether or not it should be allowed by the clocks that tick so loud and so proud. I try with my all and I try with my might but the clock on the wall is not too bright it will not compromise with my droopy dark eyes that plead it to stop ticking, it ignores my cries. So I turn to the clock on the night table beside the bed where I lay and I try to reside for the hour is late and the clocks are still awake yet they show no mercy, it's more than I can take. I drown out the sound as think I am sick because I think that the clocks only tick just for kicks they sleep during the day but only at night do they jump to a start and blare at my blight. So I've come to a conclusion that I should have reached long ago I've disposed of the clocks, they're buried in the snow For the hour is late and the clocks are buried deep Without thinking twice I drift off to sleep. © 2010 Inkfathom |
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Added on September 29, 2010 Last Updated on September 29, 2010 Author
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