When Hearts Meet
Tic, toc, tic toc, the old fifteen century grandfather clock lay flat on the wall sounding the alarm and waiting for the mid-day brawl.
It is not the typical sound that a clock makes or the irony of the people standing at the gate, it is the message that it translates as they wait patiently to hear the sentence.
Tic toc, tic toc, I can hear the train coming down the track and the old grandfather clock moving to the rhythm of train was just in time to compose a brand new sound that send shock wave throughout the town .
I could feel my temperature raising and my body sweating, nothing could stop the heat from penetrating my feet, and a sudden maniac circulates the town pouring excitement all around.
The morning with its forbidden pleasure opens its pride and the newlywed celebrates with his bride, heaven and earth came alive when the door bells ring and jubilant crowd flock the street and start to sing.
The pleasures of life sinks deep in his flesh, the moment came quickly and he was gasping for breath, and all of a sudden, I felt my heart beating.
I stare at the old grandfather clock on the wall, hoping that it would answer questions about the brawl, the second hand is racing around the track; the minute hand is shouting from the top, and the hour hand is standing at the back.
I could hear the moaning and groaning and the birds screaming but grandfather’s clock lie flat on the wall listening to the melody of the mid-day brawl.
The warm air burst through the sky with grandeur and my heart sings a curious lullaby; everything around me was dead silent and the clouds in the sky waits anxiously for the clue to show me where the energy flows, I waited patiently for it and I move with it.
When hearts meet our spirit will greet, when hearts meet we will have a grand jubilee, when hearts meet we will sign the decree.
Tic toc, tic, toc the answer is finally here, he got twenty-seven years for meddling with the atmosphere and disseminating bad air.
When hearts meet with heart we have much to share.
Copyright ©
Christine Phillips
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