7/7/11

The clocks keep stopping on my shelves,
Despite my fawning diligence,
To keep them wound and running well,
In clean, unhindered temperance.
And yet their ticking slows and wanes.
I find them stalled, the hours missed.
Is lack of balance to be blamed,
Perhaps some need of  maintenance?
Or else is this some subtle sign,
The frozen moments show to me,
A caution not to press my time,
But venture forward patiently.
Far better to have moments lost,
Than count each one obsessively,
Lest seconds measure bitter cost,
Of hours which have known no peace.