john tiong chunghoo

Being With You

the cock crow melts down
the dark and dormant hours
the stars are right with the twinkles
of hope; the sun starts to grow limbs
in the sea, river and streams
the clock runs with undivided steps
measuring each second, minute, and hour
with equal passion as if it has something grand
to catch up with; like ants on the summer wall always in
the act, as if it will run out of time,
that the world would pass them by
the second pushes the minute, and the minute the hour
as each tries to give the other the edge of the day
one, two, three, four, five o'clock and the race
never ends passing the baton here, there
to add up the age of the day

Topic(s) of this poem: art

Poem Submitted: Thursday, September 11, 2014
Poem Edited: Wednesday, November 5, 2014

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