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Mar 2021
Another few seconds pass
before the minutes are flung into the chasm
the next skeleton that rattles
will bear the mark of the hour
and so greedy it is,
as the pair of hands reach for our lives
all consuming, but never full
the swinging tock sound of the pendulum
has now provided me
with a tic of my own
only now can I---
almost taste
the impudence of the clock
the eyes on its face
ever alert,
unblinking
its grin,
unyielding
widens,
more still---
until it seizes the day.
Andrew Layman
Written by
Andrew Layman
770
 
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