Clocks seem to take control of our swift days,
This Today and Now it will soon erase.
Its hold on Time and that calendar page
Just marks all with the weariness of Age.
For while it ticks seconds with its power,
Declares the passing minute, fading hour,
We glance at it, remember, hurry forth-
With our affairs and our brief time on earth.
No clock turns back for lost time to retrieve,
Clocks just tell it, that's what it's meant to give.
Copyright © Cynthia BuhainBaello~~~02.26.16
Iambic pentameter -10 lines 10 syllables per line.
Couplet format
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You are right the clock tell us what time is it. But anyone has his own of time. Thank you for sharing.