The clock is the eyes, the heart is the bell.
Grandfather sits by my side with a story to tell.
Back in the day, there was a painter,
But he could only draw poor abstract pictures.
But in time he learned to draw better.
Still life, became real life & he became a realist.
But the day came, when he a saw woman
He wanted to draw,
But there was more than met the eye about her.
He started to daydream
And saw her in a realm
That he couldn’t believe was real.
Walls lined with love seats,
A chandelier draping from the ceiling,
& a fireplace roaring and waving in 3D.
This once realist became a hopeless romantic,
And started writing poetry to cope with it,
But it only strengthened his condition.
He became so desperate, he took the first step,
And introduced himself to her.
He had many strikes and many home runs.
He got to the world series, & married her.
As the story ended,
I woke up seeing my grandfather’s eyes in the clock,
And hearing his heart in the bell.
The bird in his mouth went back in
& never came back out.
I understood what the story was all about
& how I could apply it in my life right now.
Speak to the woman of my dreams
& make it to the world series, stop chickening out.