When the clock stops, I wind it up or replace the battery. I have to; time doesn’t end because the arms grow slow. The device wears down but the day is not over. Even if my internal metronome is bollixed, the planets keep revolving. I can’t step off the world; it doesn’t stop turning for me. I don’t always have to keep my head up but I must always go on. There is no going back. I can only remember yesterday. I can’t return to it though it’s so close the flowers are still fresh. Sometimes I struggle to keep my hands off of the past. Those are the days I secure my future and wind the clocks.
Create a map to your own happiness.
Princess No More
Decent is less obvious than accent
and so it is with dethroning;
those who put you upon the gilt alter with much aplomb
feel no qualm in taking you down
with not as much as a word or a grunt.
The wind has changed and your reign is over,
the poor startled girl is suddenly in the street.
For a scepter is not a club and why fight for a throne,
which is proven to be nothing more than a straight backed chair
once separated from its right relationships.
The horror of unexpected common status
is for the young bride an issue of safety and trust
not of ego or presumption.
Who is she without the Prince, the Knight,
she is Princess No More.