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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Clocks in the house were all but removed 
I chose utter quietude over malicious ticks and tocks.
Adhering to schedules was reliant on the angles of the sun,
and the sandy family hourglass artifact sitting by the side 
of me at my station, every hour on the hour reminding, and
I myself being ready to flip.  This was how not to live 
as a farmer and still be a slave to the working of grains. 
The sanctity of my spinning room was also my prison for
 forty hours every week, and a third of my adult life. 
Pressing down on the pedal below to see the top half rotate
and as my world turns I sometimes get approached. 
With significant fibers, their casual orders are mine for marching,
working that spindle to the satisfaction of the customer,
as was every occasion but my last one, the best one, the only one 
that I'll remember as special, delivering my soul from boredom.
My only daughter, sweet thing, no siblings to rival with
unless a naked, well tattered doll counts. She took it on adventures 
to the moon while I couldn't see my child, my savior expanding horizons.
It was silly not to see her blowing about carefree as the wind that day
without concerns over food and shelter all she desired was the deepest 
one of all.  She was sleeping on desires with every chance to dream for her 
best friend a modest cape for him to fly. Deep inside I knew her spirits 
and that doll would ride the same breeze but I had to say no for the silk 
was not mine. The customer was always right until the next day 
when I stepped out to the corner store for the bite of a sour apple, 
returning to an open door the hourglass was broken and my spindle bare. 
The world had stopped spinning, time had stopped existing… so long 
comfortable rut. Mortified for a brevity, just when I thought worlds 
couldn't change, mine had with the crashing of an antique. The glass 
littered beach on the floor was proof of that. The spindle was stripped of 
its importance and all of a sudden it hit me fast, so fast I smiled.
My daughter was no devil and yet she was the culprit stealing
my heart before and a cape now but it was okay,
just this once, to have a family legacy mocked
for the prosperity of a child's imagination. 
Seeing them fly in the backyard I dripped gentle
waves from tear ducts upon that glass scattered beach    
secretly grateful, values in my life were restored.
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