The Clock

THE CLOCK

 

 

There’s a clock that sits on my nightstand.

All night it stares at me.

Then just when I’m soundly sleeping,

It lets out a terrible beep!

 

It forces me out of my slumber,

And makes sure I’m wide awake.

So I roll myself up in the blankets,

And dream of what action to take.

 

What difference could five more minutes make;

Could it actually change my life?

Would the time allow me to save the world?

Or to ease someone else’s strife?

 

And what if the snooze was five minutes more...

Would I be clever, and, witty, and wise?

Or still be the same as I was before,

And not know the wherefores or whys.

 

The clock doesn’t seem to care one bit,

If I’ve had enough sleep or not.

It just sits on the nightstand and ticks off the time,

Then it rings at four on the dot.

 

I heard it the other morning,

From way far off in my mind.

And again it rudely awoke me,

Bringing thoughts that were truly unkind.

 

The clock that sat on my nightstand,

Was a terrible sight to see.

It beeped at ridiculous hours,

As it sat there and stared at me.

 

Well the clock is no longer with me,

It seems that it’s met its demise.

And now as the days gently break,

I can view them through happier eyes.

 

R. D. Bruss