Tick
Tick…
The spring winds down slowly
No one to reset
No one to rewind
Tick…
No one to see
The fracture in the spline
Tick…
As we go
The slack grows
Until the tick
Pulls no more.
This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will. But do leave a note. I usually reply. My name is Christopher Mitchell and my internet handle is “Another Government Employee” An aging late boomer who wonders why life passed him by. Short Fiction, Doggerel and Insensitive Opinion are spoken here. Every time you comment, an angel gets its wings. If you like what you see, please follow and share.
Very evocative read Christopher. Well done.
ReplyDeleteThat made me unutterably sad. Beautifully done.
ReplyDeleteThe interesting thing is we never know how long it ticks.
DeleteI sat for a moment after reading. Just sat. Few things make me do that, but I love it when it happens.
ReplyDeleteVery nicely done!
ReplyDeleteThat is so final. Just like out own time. I really appreciate the talent and the soul behind this, but I can't say I enjoyed it, it made me feel heavy.
ReplyDeleteExcellent.
Very deep!
ReplyDeletenice.
ReplyDeleteLove the photo you used, suits the unfinished feel the poem leaves me with.
ReplyDelete