The Clock & The Wood

The clock ticks a bell


Who am I?


The answering wood

Stuck in swirls

Gives age


Place in society

Hair color

Eye color

Legal name


But the clock

Thinking hard

Hour past



Asking how that all corresponds

With who it really is


The wood

Thinks this is stupid

“This all names

And creates the image

Of who you are!”

He shouts

A stubborn airy symphony


“But there are thousands”

Of factory clocks

Just like me.

Does that mean,

I am no different from any of them?”

The wood knocked


A candid reply

With a response.

The wood looked

At the chips

And spider webs

That belonged only to itself

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s