I'Ve Got Till Nine Poem by Rory Hudson

I’ve got till nine -
time enough, perchance,
to break a heart or two,
or see my face reflected
in a glass door swinging outwards
from an empty room,
or cast a shadow sharply on a pavement
where I will walk a little longer yet.

I’ve got till nine,
but they say that a clock
(on a wall that’s frescoed
with pictures indistinct
in shades of grey) -
a clock that’s watched
will never move -
let me, therefore,
seek out a clock.
Let me watch it intently, in fact do nothing else,
so that its hands, like mine,
may never move -
so that the end of this long day
may never come
and darkness not descend
on my twilight world.