I watch the silver cogs turn,
effortlessly,
hugging larger figures of bronze.
They spin,
slowly,
making the morbid sound.
Tick-tick-tick-tick.
The chimes trickle through
the face of crystal and glass.
Playing catch with the pendulum,
swinging, swinging, swaying.
They dance with each bell,
a union of gears and grace
staining forever memory.
I am lost in thoughts until
the tock can permeate.
And then I fall from earth,
only seconds from that
searing dance.
And I just wish...
the timing had been better.
