Tick Tock

Life is like a clock tower and we are all standing on our own little gear. As we turn and spin people come and go. Everytime one cog on our gear catches another releases. A new person is found a old friend lost.

Here with in this point I feel I am in between the catch and release of the cogs on my gear. My world is turning under me, and my life spinning before me. Out of control and time I am eager for the release from the who would not see me and savoring the catch of that would. For truly no catch is ever so sweet as the one my arms are would be allowed to hold. For she whose name I dare not speak less I fall in her tower a tangled in the cob web of never seeing is more intoxicating then any drug ever known. Yet my Lady theat would be seen her hands so tiny yet sure and strong. Has a face the likes to cause Angels to cry with envy, and a  heart an though flawed is still that like a diamond, with such radiants and boldness it can not be discarded.

I watch the hands of the clock high above tick as I long to taste the one that would hold me, feel the touch of her sweet lips, to warm her soft hands in mine.

As the second hand sweeps past again my mind so too is swept away with dreams of  her and I. Soft sweet warm dreams of my Lady who cannot be named. Ever I wait for the catch to grab and for my own to find myself a chance to free this cog and undo this webbing from the one who will not be for the one I will not fail. For she is truly the heart of this clock...

Asher1964 Asher1964
Mar 27, 2009