I Stole a Poem from a Word in the Comment Box
David said something about ticking. So the idea was stuck in my brain. I guess it tumbled out when I got to playing with words. Anyway, I must thank David for providing, unbeknownst to him, the beginning of my poem...
The grandfather clock is tick, tick, ticking
pretending I am still the girl with pixie curls
and a lilac dress, under the maple
that swung like the sea, like the sea
singing, "I will bring you home, child,
I will open a space in the rocks and bring you
home." It always felt like a harmony— the clock,
the sea, the maples swinging. It never felt like
what it was: the white metronome of years.
This poem is in honor of One Shot Wednesday.
Abstract Sun photo, by Sara. Used with permission.