Of Time's Tick-tock

My cup of youth has long been drained

No spigot fills its begging bowl

Time trickles free, unrestrained

In tick-tocking clock-cajole

Oh, I have held up to the air

 Selfish hope for miracles

Time favors not, neither compares

In tick-tocking canticles

Adoration of an hour

Or reflection in its glass

Falls prey to the tick-tock power

Where tidings of summer pass

Common courtesy of clocks

Flings us far and brings us home

Subtle is that sea of locks

In its tick-tock metronome

No one can escape its splurge

We must all its free-fall brave

Ever forward ‘neath the surge

Of time’s tick-tock to the grave

Yet this ever-chanting rote

Mantled in tick-tock facade

Spills and fills each moment-note

With breath-gift from loving God

© Janet Martin

(unexpected day off) The boys I baby-sit are sick…it is so quiet, the only sound (between noisy traffic) is the drip of a tap and the tick of the clock…