The clock

I gaze ahead in blank contemplation

Seeing nothing, forcing the right thoughts to stay
The hands of the clock never reverse their motion
The motionless calendar marks each passing day

I’m trying so hard, too hard, perhaps
For never did force masterpieces inspire
But I need to explain these passing hours
And to somehow find that inner fire

I open my notebook to an empty page
And hold the pen ready yet again
The clock ticks as I search for my muse
As so many times before, in vain

It’s hard to admit that I’m failing at life
And to face the questioning, demanding world
The bend in the road is still out of sight
It’s hard to accept that I’m just an ordinary girl

The pen drops from my listless hand
Staining the page where the words should have been
I gaze again at the ticking clock
That shuts the doors on the dreams I’ve seen

It takes but one moment to end its life
And its broken hands to pause in mine
I gaze down at the shards of glass
Not in blank contemplation this time

I know the river will still flow
But it might bring my muse to shore
And though the moon will wax and wane
The steady stars will let me dream once more

And I’ll begin my life, build it stone by stone
Slow and steady I’ll climb the stairs
And answer the world with a smile of my own
But all in my time, not theirs.