The clock ticks away gently
Counting the passage of seconds
Slowly amounting to years.
When I was a child
Its ticking was nothing but a wonder,
How could mummy tell the time?
When I was a teenager
Its ticking meant an increasing urge
To be out there in the wild world.
Now, it’s ticking means
The passage of moments which will be lost forever,
Passage of moments I wish to stop.
But soon they will be gone,
Lost in the past to become sweet nostalgia.
They will melt away
With the fast approach of new moments
Some will be happy
Some will be sad
But all time will be gone
Just the way it always does
Leaving behind the desire
To stop the ticking at happy moments.
Written on: 09/March/2007
