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There’s a clock inside my head,

Ticking, slicing,

The cogs keep  turning,

The metal never stops

 

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I talk to you, a white divide,

Your lower lip is  open,

My voice clamped shut,

Rigid, a metal brace

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 I see blue,

Dreams of you,

Your perfection astounds me,

I clench my jaw and scream.

 

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 My eye is blue, black, iris,

My legs black in motion,

My lashes mascara thick,

I cannot blink.

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The pathway of  my life,

Is a cobweb’s mesh,

Fine, illusive,

A Gossamer dream

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Those Dandelion seed heads,

Stand atop metal,  blue sky stalks,

My time piece floods,

A blue black rust.

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 My hour glass is nearly empty,

It slips and slides,

Filling up,

Last threads of life affirming energy.

Copyright – Marjorie Mallon.

All images courtesy of http://www.pixabay.com

 

 

 

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