The clock does not whisper; it strikes like a drum,Each tick a reminder of what’s yet to come.Second slip shadows, they twist and they glide,The sands of the hourglass will not abide. The morning is gold, but the evening turns gray,As moments unspoken are stolen away.The sun holds no grudge as it dips from the sky,For time does not falter, it does not ask why. … Continue reading The Clock’s Lament