the hands of the clock

The hands of the clock

Without thinking of tomorrow
That killer...covered by mist
I gave you all,
And waited...
An eternity to my eyes.
Mist, muffling the dead march
Of the hands of the clock.
The clock...and that meant nothing
For I wouldn't care for the clock
And I gave you my heart.
Your love, I said, is eternity...
and tomorrow is another day , they replied...
They were right...I'd say.
That tomorrow came
And I am still here gleaning abortive dreams.
With noone around.
Stunned,
With eyes roaming on my shrivelled horizon,
The infinite, the eternity of yore
Dwindled into a small piece of paper
With faded memories...
That's my horizon hereafter
Since the curtain will be drawn soon,
And the babbling of the fool
Will be heard no more,
No sound... no sound
Save the sound of the hands of the clock
Mourning abortive dreams.