A Lost Time

A Lost Time

There is something to be said about an ancient clock.

Her hands stuck, moving forever. Regardless of her wishes.

She does not want to hurt us, but she must do her job. 

She simply lets her pendulum swing, as she hears the whispers.

“Why are you going so slow!”

“Can’t you move faster? I don’t want to be here.”

“Why couldn’t I have more time!”

“Why can’t you hurry up, I hate being a kid!”

“Please, I’ll give anything to go back!”

“C’mon man! Bars closing, head home already!”

“He got hit? That poor kid, so young.”

“Drive faster already! We’re gonna be late!”

“You always live in the past!”

“Stop thinking about your future for once!”

“Welcome to the world little Gracie!”

“Time of death, 12:57 pm. I’m sorry ma’am.”

“Jane, last night Grandpa died.”

“But why? Can’t I see him tomorrow? Why?”

“Well baby girl, I’m afraid not”

“We can’t control these things. It was just his”

“Time.”

Shedding a tear, she collects herself, and does her job.

Her minute hand moves on, and so does time.