Being

My fluffy clock - I can
touch it, throw it, break it,
It exists, and breakable
It is there I can see it.
Desks are hard, and can be
Sat upon or kicked.
And all my books are there -
and scruffy and torn and I can throw them away if I like.
And the pictures - I know,
just a code or a bark rubbing, black rubbing
of something that was.
I can take them down
I can reuse their blu-tack.

Myself, I am just a time,
A raindrop in your imagination, now