Hands of clock, race and sprint,
Zoom and pace with galloping winds.
Like lightning streak, fades away fast,
Sunny times, in a wink, are things of past.
Hands of clock, snail ahead,
Clinging on past, they slowly tread.
Time sloths, when darkness surrounds,
Waves of willpower, can turn the clock around.
Hands of clock, nervously sweat,
In football game, with few seconds left,
Each passing second, lives a hero’s life,
As thousands stare at countdown slide.
Hands of clock, trickle in red,
Oozing fast, from wounds that bled,
Emergency van, rushes in aid,
As time gushes fast, with no bandage.
Hands of clock, fold and pray,
Under surgeon’s knife, as loved one lay,
Each second drips, drop by drop,
Failing to fill the bottomless pot.
Hands of clock, nimble and deft,
Juggle around with numbers twelve,
Wonders, amazed by mothers play
Who dexterously juggle, so much in a day?
Hands of clock, like falcons zoom,
When lovers two, are locked in room,
Trying hard, to catch time in jar,
Firefly time slips, now already too far.
Photo By : Matt Seymour