The Clock Poem by Allison Barnett
The Clock
Tick tock
Tick tock
it goes
like a clock
how does it tick?
how does it tock?
where is the juice,
where is the source?
There, beside me
fingers threaded through mine
oak dark eyes
and storms of kisses
Those are the wheels
of my heart
The hands that caress and soothe
The face that keeps me captivated
His words are my gears
shifting and turning
in time
in tune
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/8/2024 3:06:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
