Poetry

I watched the second hand

4:30 on the dot

I sat staring

At that old clock

Then pulled out my own watch

Time had stopped.

The brick roads

And the street lights

Showed no sign

Of life

No one behind the windows.

I looked

As I wandered through the abandoned street

The wildflowers watched me

I stopped at the garden of hope

Had anyone else been there

I traced the letters of a scripture written on a stone

It warmed one moment in my weary bones.

The prayer garden ahead

I walked on

I lay under the cross

Humbling myself

Crumbled there

No strength to kneel

What was I supposed to feel

I walked away with the cross at my back

And the old clock

Stuck in time

With the wildflowers blowing

Not seeming at all

To mind.

8 thoughts on “Poetry

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