a single moment stays
another builds a solid maze
every tick of the clock displays
rising iron walls with slates to gaze
the tick of a tock is the groove to insane
caught on a string, can’t swing away
twisting in the turning fate
the push of a hand
tips the flow of sand
the other hand pulls the weight
forever sharpening the keys
iron mask or the height of a crown
darkness moves on frightening ground
a shared space in the wait
etching forever the sound it makes
a scrap and rattle in a tick for a tock
make doors for walls complete with locks
held open no more, all eyes to the floor
faces keep pace for the evermore
the minds design linked by a chain
a constant companion remains
ticking a song and hammering sublime
safe in a pocket of time


Terry D’Arcy-Ryan