Click-e-d-click, Click-e-d-click
Roused from fitful slumber
Yes! Slumber; not sleep, not quite sleep
Click-e-d-click, Click-e-d-click
Its dusk outside
Yes! Dusk; not dark, not quite dark
Click-e-d-click, Click-e-d-click
I’m going back
Yes! Back; not home, not quite home
Click-e-d-click, Click-e-d-click
Doctor said dying
Yes! Dying; not dead, not quite dead
Click-e-d-click, Click-e-d-click
I keep hoping
Yes! Hoping; not believing, not quite believing
Click-e-d-click, Click-e-d-click
That I can fight
Yes! Fight; not win, not quite win
Click-e-d-click, Click-e-d-click
Just last longer
Yes! Longer, not forever, not quite forever
Click-e-d-click, Click-e-d-click
I’m weeping
Yes! Weeping; not sobbing, not quite sobbing.
Click-e-d-click, Click-e-d-clock, tic-e-d-tock, tic-e-tock, tic-tock, Tic-tock-tic-tock-tic-tock-tic-tock-tic-tock.
Comments
rainee | January 16, 2009 - 00:51
my mum would have had to go through this so I've pondered the feelings in this poem and appreciate your poem's subject. The clock ticking seems to bring the poem to life for me, ( no pun intended). To be told your dying, to lay awake with that knowledge must be scarey even though we all die. Do you think ignorance is bliss or it's better to know?
threeleafshamrock | January 16, 2009 - 21:02
I think I would like to know but I suppose that is almost a 'third person' view. They did not tell my father - they told me - but I think he knew anyway. On the train home, I tried to imagine how that must feel and what I would say if he asked me. He didn't ask; I didn't tell him, but we both knew. We spent some of the most quality time we ever had, for about 3 months. Thanks for your comment rainee.
Regards
Chris