The Internal Clock

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.
The sound of the ever rhythmic
Chanting of the internal clock,
As one sits there emotionless,
Waiting like an overly impatient
Six year-old in the doctor’s office.
Waiting for the inevitable.
Trying to pass the time away
By participating in life.
Time slowly trickles by
Like the left over raindrops
That drip off the edge of the roof.
Yet the years continue to race on
Like a marathon in fast forward.
The older a person gets
The quicker the runner’s pace becomes
And the slower the raindrops fall.
Until they finally stop.
Frozen in motion,
Forming an icicle of time.
Suspended in mid-air,
Like the marathon of years, now paused.
Waiting like an audience
Perched at the edge of their seats,
Watching a movie about life,
But one they’ve already seen before.
Then motion sets in again,
The runner dashes across
The finish line in first place
And the icicle crashes
Upon the frozen sidewalk,
As the movie credits roll.
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Tick….. Tock, …. Tick….