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TICK TALK
An old clock ticks in the background
Never quite sure of what time it is
Yet steadfastly sure it is right at least twice a day
It will not tell you your blood pressure
Nor will it count your footsteps
Or find you the nearest Starbucks
Its gears will eventually wear down
Softly lose their edginess
Its ticks become a fading whisper
It will slowly become more silent
Its presence less noticeable
Unless it is a friggin’ Cuckoo clock
Copyright ©
John Lawless
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