The Wind-up Clock

This is the last time we will wind the clock,
And we can watch it tick down ’til it stops.
The face reports the final time in lock
Being one of remembrance’s props.
Until that moment, we’ll ignore the tick
That reminds us of the limited time.
Instead, we will play on our ears, a trick
Of covering sound with a happy chime.
No matter how much noise that we can make,
The reminder will hover in our mind
Because time holds all the power to take,
Leaving only out memories behind.
Let’s make the most out of each passing tock
By not paying attention to that clock.

Graduation

Has there been so much change these last four years,
Or is it a matter of perspective?
No one can prognosticate where life steers
Because it does so without a motive.
It does not play against out deepest fears
Even though we may believe it is so.
It does not care about our shedding tears
Because those feeling don’t cause it to slow.
It does not listen to our grateful cheers;
It considers it nothing more than noise.
The troubles of man do not reach its ears;
It won’t even move its elegant poise.
Yet these four years have tumbled on past,
And the first day was diff’rent than the last.