A person sits and cries
Knees together, holding her face
Lips quiver, and tears leak from cracks
Hide from the world
Not just a girl
But full grown
A woman, long

A clock clicks
Wordless in the night
It's not the precision preferred
Everything is not all right
It's face so pretty
Decorated with scrolls
Beautiful in architecture

It tells the time
But cannot really see inside
It's mind isn't shattered
It's still beautiful
Cogs, levers, springs and gears
It can only look at others
Knows something is wrong

It sees the world, all the other faces
Clocks themselves, faces hiding minds
Only hears the tick, click and tock
Sometimes it rains, humidity brings
Another tock, and knows it's off
Just one more tick
Make it work

One has to look past the face
See it's mind, complete
Not the pretty, but
Admire the precision
Mechanical beauty
Revenged emotional
Struggling time

Always trying so hard
Get through the hours
Minutes in seconds
Maybe it's ok, a little slow
A little fast, time makes time
Looking at clocks
Feeling only wrong

But it's the slow and fast
Moments between
When someday, it seems
That ticks and tocks
Patchwork healing
Shrugging, painful seconds
Keep perfect time

The other clocks
Faces hiding broken minds
Look to that grand Ol' tock
See only that it goes
Not its struggle
So in her hands
Tears slide down

Her woman's cheeks
All red, eyes puffy
A mind restrained
She hides her face, not
So all the other clocks
Can all go tick, tock
Click, whir

She only knows her
Ignoring the fact that
Her time is perfect
For everything he needs
Because the beauty of
Elegance is precession

His sense is timeless
Wonder not measured
For hours, creep
Minutes, tick
Seconds, wander
But altogether
She is everything

No gypsy whispers to me
Not secrets of the night
The sound of bangles are silent
Bandanas are folded alway
Her magic was broken
More trick than treat
Too easily fooled
The ball is not cloudy
It's hollow and clear
A mirror under the table
Modern projectors so small
Bright lights make marks trust magic
Confuse logic and sense
A basic trick, keep them off balance
Offer correction, a touch
Then the magic in words
So nice, lovely, impressed
Maybe a favor, a lady's delight
Never too much, nothing too big
Just a small favor, not too much
A smile and a compliment
Make them give action to words
Create loyalty, but test waters
Just to be sure
The game's afoot, a hand now in hand
So well you do, the gypsy exclaims
For sure the best, not just here but there
Establish authority, decide who's to role
Let words become actions
But at a role that's controlled
Ever the magician, the magi
The sorceress, wizard and role
The victim is willing
To believe the unknown
Worse if they know
The truth of the words
Building that trust
To the deceiver, the bold
The gypsy is slick, the gypsy is bold
A hand in the pocket, distractions all told
You came for surprise, entertainment
The reaction is slow, days and months go by
Piece by piece you are taken
Often willing to be broken
Standing in line, smiling
But inside you're crying
Asking, pleading to stop
Can't even say the words
Don't want to be rude
It's just the gypsy, you know
Nothing mean, vile or dread
Just a trick in your head

Carousel spins, horses up and down
Painted bright colors, joyful sight
Always chasing each other
Looks like such great fun
There's a horse for Bobby
Brown saddled, and feet in the stirrups
He stands screaming in bliss
Kenny rides a mare,
All pink and blues
She cries out in splendor
White knuckled on the pole
The parents they stand aside
Watch their children go by
'There's Johnny, Mary, Susie, and Jason!'
Take pictures, faces frozen in time
But there is no pictures in albums
Not of carousel rides
Because all those pictures discarded
The horses are screaming
Look with colors so bright
In lights like fire  
The pictures all blur
But there is Betty
Her smile is not
Picture was taken
Snapped just off
Don't use this says the mother
It's not what I like
Father tosses the white knuckled
Shiny impaled horses, across the night
But every year it's the same
The children's fears are alike
And children become parents
Only to see what they see
Bright

Hours talking
Listening, sometimes crying
Maybe awkward
But needed, desperate
Not embarrassing

Sometimes what you need
Is what you can't ask for
Can't ask for yourself
You can give yourself
Completely and totally
Unconditionally, to another
But it's still not the hardest thing

To look in to her eyes, forgive her
That's easy, but
Forgiving yourself
For pushing her
Is love, hardest true