Click Clock Click Clock

[image error]Pexels.com" data-medium-file="https://sunriseblue.files.wordpress.c..." data-large-file="https://sunriseblue.files.wordpress.c..." src="https://sunriseblue.files.wordpress.c..." alt="" class="wp-image-752" style="width:209px;height:auto" />Photo by Kristine Luzon on Pexels.com

Click clock, click clock, click clock: soft whir of brass.

Time passes, and stands still, trapped in case of glass.

Warmth without, a world within, I am not like others.

Love inside and doesn’t hide, not here when safe with mother.

And so, I’m left, happy to discover, to watch, to see.

A shiny spinning city in future or from long antiquity.

Click clock, click clock, a holy palace appears in seconds,

A hero from outside looks in, a leader pleads and beckons.

Somehow deep within, the hero seeks the brass,

He finds his way to save the day within the case of glass.

Reflections appear, a shiny voice, “Play Indians with me.”

And I must go, for my world below, is only for me to see.

And what child would change the deep, real joy of playing in the mud,

Building forts from piles of leaves, or digging in ditches by the road,

For such a tiny world of spinning brass, though it fills my soul?

No, not I. From the case of glass, I will allow myself to go.

But one last look, a breath, a glimmer, a glance.

Click clock, I’ll find the city and hero again, someday, perchance.