Time Ticks By

Listening to the rhythmic ticktock,
Remembering another time I listened to the grandfather clock,
As it marked time passing; but I was too busy
With my childhood games and fun; too dizzy
With excitement to know each tick was a second
Gone, each tock adding to the minutes. I hadn’t reckoned on
The speed of the clock and just how fast
The second of each tick and tock would last.

The disc-round pendulum swinging to and fro,
Moving the seconds and minutes along; on they go
With each swing of the pendulum, side to side.

Remembering another time, when I once tried to hide
Inside the clock, its tall coffin-like case just the right size
For a child of six, seven, or eight to hide from searching eyes,
In a game of hide-and-seek. I was too busy to see
I had stopped the pendulum from marking time for me.

But when the game was over, I dutifully swung it back in time
So it played its ticktock sound. And now, it’s mine.
Now my parents’ time has passed, the rhythmic ticktock
Now marks my time, each second, of the clock.

But I’m too busy to play; my childhood games are done.
I watch my own children play; each second filled with fun.
Now, with my adult life and the responsibilities that brings
Each second, passes, pushed along each time the pendulum swings.
​
I wouldn’t now fit in the coffin-like case to play my childhood game,
But I’d like to stop the pendulum swinging, all the same.