Time: Reflections

The steady ticking

Of the hands on my

Grandfather clock

Didn’t stop

Didn’t wait

As I slept

As I ate

Or as I counted the stars

Now alone

In an icy world

On fast-forward

A lens of dark storm clouds

Hiding yesterday’s sun

Nowhere to go

But back

Back to when I was young

Naïve, indecisive, lost

But free

Free as the crisp winds of spring

Free from the onerous weight

That chains me to the rubble earth

Free to explore my boundless imagination

And to discover new and wondrous places

Across the world

To the torrid Sahara

Or the raging Amazon

Perhaps to the zenith

Of Mount Everest

And back down again

In desperate want of adventure

The tingling of my hands

The eager twitching of my feet

And the vociferous pounding of my callow heart

Leading the way

Many a time I fell upon

Forks in the road

Life would come to a full stop

Which road to take

Or simply turnaround

Nothing to assuage my indecision

And now I know

Much to my dismay

All forks eventually

Lead to one dark and tapering path

Which I am currently heading down

It was a world bathed in a yellow dawn

Now draped in a black velvet shroud

No stars or moon or shining sun

Just the dying embers

Flickering in my old fireplace

But as the clock keeps ticking by

And the seasons continue to cycle

An inexplicable yet irrefragable

Peace has come over me

From beyond a layer of creviced wrinkles

And years of sorrow

I see the world differently

And suddenly I am assured

The sun will rise tomorrow.

Katy Thompson

Block: 3

April 2, 2012