Tick-Tock Tick-Tock <br />I watch as the hand on the clock <br />Goes round and round <br />Speeding up <br />And slowing down <br /> <br />Tick-Tock Tick-Tock <br />The peopling moving in a blur <br />Passing around me <br />If it's real I'm never sure <br />What must this be? <br /> <br />Tick-Tock Tick-Tock <br />Birthday's pass <br />The candles adding one by one <br />Adding ever so fast <br />Each time the clock goes round it's faster then the last <br /> <br />Tick-Tock Tick-Tock <br />The leaves turn brown <br />The snow comes down <br />Then the glowers sprout <br />And the clock continues round <br /> <br />Tick-Tock Tick-Tock <br />When will this clock stop <br />And stop this sense of dread <br />When will my clock run dead <br />and stop the tick-tock.....tick-tock... <br />Going in my head...<br /><br />Michael Carlson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tick-tock-tick-tock-2/
