There’s a clock inside my head,
Ticking, slicing,
The cogs keep turning,
The metal never stops
I talk to you, a white divide,
Your lower lip is open,
My voice clamped shut,
Rigid, a metal brace
I see blue,
Dreams of you,
Your perfection astounds me,
I clench my jaw and scream.
My eye is blue, black, iris,
My legs black in motion,
My lashes mascara thick,
I cannot blink.
The pathway of my life,
Is a cobweb’s mesh,
Fine, illusive,
A Gossamer dream
Those Dandelion seed heads,
Stand atop metal, blue sky stalks,
My time piece floods,
A blue black rust.
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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