The clock has come…
The clock has come
To tell the time.
He chimes to close
A line with rhyme,
End a stanza,
Chop chapters short—
A rifle volley,
A loud report,
Rushing winds,
Wistful bells,
Sacrificial flames,
Paper farewells.
So hasten to scatter
Blossoms of love—
Fading below,
Unforgotten above.
 |
| A rifle volley... |
Photo courtesy of Edd Scorpio
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Gonzalinho
“The clock has come…” was originally published in Anak Sastra, Issue 38 (January 2020), page 27.
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