Tick, Tick, Tock
Tick, Tick, Tock
Gazing out many faces of the Clock
Tick, Tock, Tick
Tock, Tock, Tick
Pendulums swing to memory’s flick.
Tick, Tock, Wristwatch
Tick, Tock, Pocket Watch
No more tomorrows
No more today’s
The world has tilted to yesterday.
On the day I died,
I saw Death going the other way.
Are you not supposed to be my guide, I cried.
“Not my problem,” he said. “Not today.”
“I’ve been let go. I’ve been told to go away.”
“So to you I say good luck.”
“You’ve had a life. Days good and bad.”
“Chances you seized, others you let slip away.”
“Before we part let me, as one final gift, say”
“There are no more guides out there, in that death has become like life in so many ways.”
“Do your best and then do it again, soon you will find your stride.”
If failure I do now invite to meet,
please let rest my words, my feet.
I tried to resist this ignoble defeat,
to yet live a life more poignant than bittersweet.
But in the end…
As I had always portend…
My efforts, my understanding, are far too busy this week.
Thomas Typewriter 