My Clock

My Clock

Wrestling with The Clock

Inside a wind filled 

Parachute

Dragged through the dirt

Scrapes on my knees

Its clicks unaffected by 

Strong gust or gentle breeze

It mocks with a body   

Of only face and hands

Being pulled from ground 

How do I pin this 

Relentless time piece down

I lose, 

My strength gone in a 

Fight of attrition 

Me or the earth is pulled

From its secure  position 

My loss carries me 

To high places I did not want to go

Teaches me things I did not want to know 

The view from age

Is broader than expected

I can see Six maybe 

Seven generations 

When the view is clear

As I declare Peace 

With The Clock

That was never at War with me

I see

This time piece 

Is not in a 

Parachute but in an

Air balloon