The Clock
I watched the clock struck twelve.
It turned over and over
Until it reached twelve again.
Suddenly, a moth flew at my sight.
I stared at the blank space,
My past turns like the clock.
On twenty eleven, I was on Jim’s clock,
Last year, on John’s,
This year, on Joy’s.
Different clocks with same moves,
On different time, On same path.
Is there a clock who turns counterclockwise?
None!
Copyright © Flora Mae Gudez | Year Posted 2014
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