A Place (Emma’s Piece for Critique)

by newerawriters

A Place

Sliding under and my thoughts catch on to the steady tick-tock of my grandmother’s cuckoo clock. My head sways from side to side to the rhythm of the

tick-tock, tick-tock

and I wonder if I am wasting or living a second by noticing it.

As the hands go around and around,

advancing, circling,

repeating

and my hands and head and feet stay exactly where they are,

am I losing the battle of moving forward? Is time

progressing faster, as I steady my hand,

will I ever catch up?

With eyes closed, I count

to sixty

and again and again

until I know I have spent five minutes recognizing

time

hoping this acquaints me closer

with time

passing,

stretching,

wandering,

wondering, living, leaving

and repeating

and repeating

awakening time within me

to work for me

as I’ve worked for it.

tick-tock tick-tock

my grandmother’s cuckoo clock taunts

my idleness,

comments on the world’s

movement

against my

idleness.

And my idleness

and the

tick-tock tick-tock

move me

through memory

quickly

remembering

my world

and my movement through

and my movement against

and my movement with

and I move

forward

for worth: mine and others and all

and I step with

tick-tock tick-tock

and faster.

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