We are dangling off of the hands
Of the indifferent clock
That runs through all the lands,
An unpick-able lock.
And we move through the day,
Often apart,
But there is always a time to pay
A visit to you in my heart.
Numbered times,
Even in these rhymes,
Always those times,
Spinning dimes.
Our lives are circular
Beginning where we end,
Heading nowhere particular,
Still holding onto those hands.
But we always somehow,
End up together again,
End up in the now,
A love time looks on with disdain.
We are still dangling off of the hands
Of the indifferent clock,
That moves through waters and sands.
Finally, we took our stands,
Loosened grip and landed at the dock,
Together, holding hands.
Published June 30th, 2011
