Clock

There once lived a clock
with a curious trick,
who yawned at the hours
and refused to tick.
It danced with the seconds,
then swallowed the chime,
And giggled, “I’m tired
of measuring time!”

But the world said-
"Time must march in line"
And filed it under
Hours:Section nine.
The clock was seized
for forbidden thoughtcrime.

They tried to bribe
it with a bell,
Even threatened it
with a prison cell.
They tried to fix it
and gave it a kick
Then lectured it on
why clocks must tick.
But it blinked and said,
“I would rather be a sundial
sipping herbal tea,
or a toaster
in a bakery".

So they sent it
off to Sector Three,
Where clocks are
taught conformity.

I wandered through the security,
Where time was trapped
in circuitry.
Clocks were hung like winter air.
Necks in nooses
Hands on chair.

I fled the scene acting blind,
Through corridors
where clocks maligned.

Then I passed a field
where clocks once grew,
Their hands like branches,
laced with dew.
Wondered if perhaps,
that time’s true art
is not to count,
but to take part.