Locks and Clocks
/Locks and Clocks
We change locks
like we change clocks,
as flippantly as daylight dims,
as easily as days grow slim;
we try to bolt the sunlight out
with combinations masked in doubt
to shorter hours, as if we could
feel like the conqueror who would
shut out those close and dear to us
who used to be the ones we trust.
Clocks and locks are both the same
as tokens in some wordless game
to keep out fear and trusted waifs;
our meager souls no longer safe;
the locks have failed and so the trust
is gone and turned to flaking rust;
the moths have eaten through
those things we hoped to keep brand new;
again our dark night will descend
and we will once again offend.
Like locks and clocks we change our friends
(if ever we could make amends
for things we did with ignorance in place)
and do not receive the coveted embrace
from absent friends who come and go
as night to day diminishes its glow;
where hope runs true within,
returns to come around again
to lengthening days where suns shine bright,
and will dismiss the darkness of our night.
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