POEMS for everything

The Clock

The clock ticks,
Signaling a new moment,
Announcing the death of the last one,
Forewarning the next one.
The past slips away,
Those nights and days that seemed to last forever,
Mere glimpses of what once was.
In that tick,
The sound sound of your voice,
The words you were able to manipulate,
The songs you kept near your heart,
The tears that dropped on your cheek,
The laughs that invited the sun.
But in the next;
Gone,
Scattered like sand in a whirlwind.
It's not the people I miss,
It's the memories,
The emotions,
The happiness.
The people don't matter themselves,
Their effect on you does.
In years that wane,
It's the memories,
The stories told,
That truly matter.
I miss the presence of an ear,
The light in your eyes,
The joy you inscribed,
Teaching me how to not just live,
But to be alive.
I miss the long conversations,
Now the days are filled with small talk.
The clock tells me to move forward,
To store away the memories,
To create new ones,
To anticipate the best ones.
It's not the important moments that mattered to me,
It was the minute in those that filled my heart to the brim.
The way the moonlight hit your eyes,
The way you made the most unnoticeable smirk when you were amused,
The rise and fall of your chest when you were asleep,
The heat of your skin when we laid together.
No matter the pain caused,
The tears you pulled out,
The ticks you took,
I would never trade them.
You taught me more than the clock.
You taught me to be alive in those moments,
To capture the happiness,
Not to try and rotate the clock hands.
The most difference between the clock and you,
Is that the clock will always be there,
Though the bad and the good,
Pushing me forward,
Never failing to stay strong and face troubles.
The clock never runs away,
Yet you do.
Tick.
Tock.

Steven Krauss-Akins ©2016