To Keep Time

Time runs with or with out provocation

The quiet click of my watch tells me this

Though the hum, ever flowing, of the fan

And the refrigerator, and the electricity in the walls

Tells me otherwise, the watch is king

So to hold this moment, I listen

I abide in the busy silence of night

Stare into the waxy dark as it waits

For the heat that will come to melt it

And take into myself the ink of the darkness

It holds down even time in it

The bare white of the day

When drawn across are moon-kissed lines

Then when coolness comes to form back up the melt

It learns again the art of keeping time

So each new day to comes is held at bay

By quiet sounds who whisk the time away