A Clock In Time Poem by Peter S. Quinn

My song has gone to loneliness
Its freshness is rustic and old
The window sings in wintry wind
For memories that can not hold
The hour is now in to nothingness
Though not everything has been told
Feelings are out and vision sealed
Into a dark shape that now unfolds

You have not my heart learned
None new is to be had here
Only moisten eyes confronting
Old corners to know and see
And bridges to fit themselves burned
In to what does appear
A wall of reflections hunting
Of what has come here by to be

My song has gone to its past
Crumpling like loose molars
And bringing back here to each cast
Their aged siding paintworks
For days have gone in to their last
Of lights and sketches returning
A clock in time - a mirror glassed
I am still alone here yearning