The Clock - Poem by Lora Colon
The night comes on, so dark and cold,
And right on cue, here comes the fear;
What will I do when the clock strikes twelve...
When it's midnight, and you're not here
Every night the same scene unfolds,
It starts and it ends with a tear;
The starless canopy of black and gray,
Descending..... and you're not here
I pray again, but does God not know
Into my heart He's thrust a spear?
How many candles before He sees
That it's midnight, and you're not here
But the fountain of mercy does not flow,
Bitter is my cup of cheer;
I draw the drapes, here comes the storm,
It's midnight, and you're not here
Not a thousand stars falling to earth,
Nor the moon whispering in my ear,
Nothing will alleviate the pain
When it's midnight and you're not here
Listen to the message of the clock,
Trying to provoke more tears;
The rhythmic ticking tells me that you're
Not here..... not here..... not here.....
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