The Mantle Clock

The mantle clock has raced ahead twenty minutes,

it insists on living faster than me tic toc tic toc’ing.

Here in stuck, I wonder what happens in the time

warp that sits between me and the walnut wood.

If I had twenty minutes,

I’d sort through the mail,

or wash the kitchen floor,

or put away the laundry.

Instead, papers aren't graded,

dishes aren't in the way,

books are happy alone,

and the couch is lonely.

The mantle clock has raced ahead twenty minutes,

it is tic toc tic toc’ing faster than I imagined when

it came from the Netherlands where it lived before,

maybe it’s the time change that has it off-kilter.

But I’m soothed by the

knock of pendulum, and

the click that indicates

that chords will be struck.

Tic toc, tic toc, tic toc,

the sound has moved in,

settled amongst my things,

waiting for me to catch up.

The mantle clock has raced ahead twenty minutes,

it has left me in the dust that covers the floor,

its solemness the requiem for the minutes I lost 

since the day five ago that I last wound it up.