The Wayward Scholar

clockwork, it’s clockwork!

do other men age with dignity and without novelty.

feeling like a felled man

featuring a failed offensive cliche

dodging pendulums

skipping stanzas and turning sands

hourglass hands

always ticking.

passing empty years. clocking in clocking out

tinkering gears

working.

oh and there he goes! quality men!

our superheroes! taking flight, providing right?

but when that boyish grin

becomes patient lines wearing thin…

wow, what an intriguing being

a wildebeest at night. howling at the moon!

Such a curious being. flipped twice heel and head over.

shattered glass in reunion is a gorgeous calamity to respect

so closer we dare get, waiting for our turn.

So, we leave our clocks set an hour behind

turning the hourglass over

thinking, with our own tinkering. he’ll give us more time

such wishful thinking

that’s how clocks work, right?