A Contemplation - Hartford Hilton
Of a clock -
From the pipes
As someone’s bath
Behind it all
In muted tone
A subtle note
Forgetting the clock,
Forgetting the cars
Forgetting the sewer draining
Listening to this muted note
You sense your world changing.
Soft it sings
Within the head,
Then gently starts uplifting.
Clearer now -
Beyond the self
Above a brooding sea,
And colored light
Lives this melody.
To the lower self.
The clock ticks.
The traffic growls.
Another toilet flushes.
© M. Barrett – all rights reserved
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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