ramblings and things
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Time Passes
Time passes
The new alarm radio doesn't tick away
The minutes the way the old clock did,
That reassuring sound in the darkness,
Steadily measuring life like a heart beat
As the hands crept round agonizingly
Slow, then seeming to jump to record
The brief, head drooping doze,as the
Brain for a merciful instant closes down
The conscious system allowing merciful,
Healing escape. The hands glowed in
The night, a gentle off white, contrasting
With the blue steady glow of the new LCD,
Seeming to light the room incredibly much:
Unwinking, inhuman, unfriendly, constant
As the digits of this long night slowly change
Yet the display stays in that same place.
No friendly hands, that however slowly, do
Chart the progress of the march to light,
Quartering the dark face again and again.
Tomorrow the new will be off and out
The old returned to its former place
And together we will plough through the
Night, my old friend ticking time for me,
Visibly charting my progress through
Yet another seemingly sleepless night
And on to a dawn, greeted with a thick
Head and tired eyes, but still welcomed.
My foe, the darkness banished by a dozy
Day, and with the return of night inevitable
I bumble and mumble my way through and
My old comradely clock ticks the time away,
In its reliable, gently heard, reassuring mode.
The harsh blare of the new that jerk me wake
With its chattering sound banished for good,
An experiment in progress that for me failed.
Time passes.
The new alarm radio doesn't tick away
The minutes the way the old clock did,
That reassuring sound in the darkness,
Steadily measuring life like a heart beat
As the hands crept round agonizingly
Slow, then seeming to jump to record
The brief, head drooping doze,as the
Brain for a merciful instant closes down
The conscious system allowing merciful,
Healing escape. The hands glowed in
The night, a gentle off white, contrasting
With the blue steady glow of the new LCD,
Seeming to light the room incredibly much:
Unwinking, inhuman, unfriendly, constant
As the digits of this long night slowly change
Yet the display stays in that same place.
No friendly hands, that however slowly, do
Chart the progress of the march to light,
Quartering the dark face again and again.
Tomorrow the new will be off and out
The old returned to its former place
And together we will plough through the
Night, my old friend ticking time for me,
Visibly charting my progress through
Yet another seemingly sleepless night
And on to a dawn, greeted with a thick
Head and tired eyes, but still welcomed.
My foe, the darkness banished by a dozy
Day, and with the return of night inevitable
I bumble and mumble my way through and
My old comradely clock ticks the time away,
In its reliable, gently heard, reassuring mode.
The harsh blare of the new that jerk me wake
With its chattering sound banished for good,
An experiment in progress that for me failed.
Time passes.
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Time Passes
Time Passes