THE CLOCK’S THAT MARK MY TIME; and call to me by name.

16 Nov


So it seems, to me they all called; calling, to me by name; whose voice all seem to be the same; but, who’s shape’s do not stay the same.

For shapes that change like I; from, year to year; from age to age.

Like the passing time of changing me; the chiming clock voice’s of time passes and spoke; but, to me.

I know its changing shapes all too well; from, youth to adult to elder yet again.

From walls; to walls.

From; forms to forms.

From, great cities clock towers building allure; their voices call my name and beckon me; from more of life too more.

It’s shifting shapes abound; as it calls to me in disguise; like Swiss Bird Home of a child or calls me to school days, military cadence tones to cadence time; through business noon and courtship; then marriage and home to you with child without fail.

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