Clock

Clock short poem

Photo by Slipshod Photog

Her heart was like a clock that I wanted to stop and rewind the dial back.
Remembering the beginning.
Following the curve of ticks as everything around disappeared.
The ticks and tonks that throb as pulse.
The blossom of smiles and times that reflected off glass.
To live in the darkness of closed eyes and reflect on genuine smiles.
The whirlwind of dials advancing into a darkness we both never knew.
A familiar scent becoming a door.
Her heart a clock filled with different size springs and dials.
A circular cubicle that sped fast.
A theory of time.
Her heart was a clock that I wanted to stop and wind back the dial to the beginning.
Across arms and lines that separated how much time has really passed

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