Tick-Tock

Tick-tock, tick-tock

The Clock goes

And it asks me,

Why do you spend so much time

Writing?

Writing on scraps of paper

And forgotten drafts of

Microsoft Word,

Why do you write so many pieces

That are going to disappear?

I reread what I’ve written,

I delete and deliberate

And the Clock

Goes tick-tock

Tisk-tisk

Tick-tisk

Tisk-tock.

I give the clock no answers,

But I’ll write one down,

Because I live for the smile,

A line of poetry can bring,

The connection of two strangers,

Between a simile.

I live for the individuality each piece of mine will have,

And yet all the similarities,

To the next poet’s poem as well.

Tick-tock goes the Clock,

Its beat becomes my rhythm,

And I’ll keep on writing poetry,

Beyond anyone’s judgment.