PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Sitting

Leg crossed over knee

Gazed fixed

A clock ticks- it echoes and bounces in his head

his hours are numbered 

The question is always

'How many are left'

He could stop the endless ticking, silence the mocking of the clock

Plant an idea in his head

The notion of eternity

Blooming with the aid of an

unforgiving bullet

Does he wait until the sand runs out

Or

When the thought of waking-

Another day dawning

Waiting on an unattainable smile-

No longer prevents sleep

He's tired of waiting

Endless

'Will happiness

or the Reaper

arrive at my doorstep first?'

Or perhaps

they are both already there

Knocking

Waiting

Moving in time with the clock on the mantle

"And I must decide who to allow in"