Poem Hunter
AF (3/27/88 / New Brunswick, NJ)


The seconds tick past,
a quiet clock on the wall, ticking, ticking,
never noticeable.
A minute can seem like an hour,
here one second, gone the next,
it never says goodbye.
it continues, unchanged, undetected,
is it really there?
do we just make it up? protecting ourselves,
making excuses.
it strikes,
swift as an eagle,
dives into your heart.
time never waits,
never fights back,
it just ticks, ticks, ticks,
the silent clock.
never there, but always there.

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Langston Hughes


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