Tick-Tock
Time will never cease.
As time, for me, may never stop.
I tap my fingers upon the mahogany counter top
While the ticking of my pocket watch echoes in my ears, I do combat.
As do the steps of a maid, soldier, or a simple working man,
As does the flapping of a dragon's wings rather than
The frail fluttering easily ceased of a butterfly or bumble bee.
Perhaps even the heartbeat or the jungle of unease jumbled inside of me,
Time is dedicated to the maid, soldier or the simple working man's mortality.
Time is a precious thing, dedicated to taps and ticks that we all want to fix,
Dedicated to the candles melting by the flame that licks upon the wicks.
While the ticking of my pocket watch echoes in my ears, I fail to combat.
I stop tapping my fingers on the mahogany counter top.
As time, for me, may stop.
Time will soon cease.
Tick-Tock
Johanna Sauer
March 1st, 306 AC
March 1st, 306 AC
Last edited:
