This Burning Watch

This burning watch,

it screams to me its three-o-clock alarm;

can’t brace the pace it makes me cower.

Three arms that swing exultantly

I race to face my final hour.

This burning watch,

it sings away my every passing breath;

although the song goes so long;

It shall surely sing my death.

Abstract time seems a foe,

and a playground life calls friend.

Extract from it my every goal,

incomplete at every end.

Make the most and manage well,

or so the sage will tell.

Yet even the wise cannot deny

the tolling of the bell.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s