A CLOCK WORK


Claudette Martinez

Canada

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Time is wasted on those who can not understand or appreciate its worth.

Those who commit gluttony, those who are not capable of savoring each tic toc of the clock.

Those who savagely waste each irreplaceable moment,

no remorse,

no respect for the creator.

The concept is lost to those who don't deserve it,

stolen from those who do.

You might compare the grotesque selfishness,

to gorging on water in a waterless world.

They stand with endless buckets.

each filled to the brim.

Recklessly spilling priceless drops

with each dip of the ladle.

Dipping it over and over till they can drink no more.

While others watch, praying, begging for just a sip,

a drip on their tongue.

Just the tiniest relief.

The excess so carelessly discarded,

left for the arid earth to swallow.

Wasted.

It could've been given to the thirsty,

all those drips of water exchanged for countless

tic tocs of the clock.


Each tic could've been the final hug of a child.

Each toc the last touch of your lovers' lips,

or the smile of a father or mother that will never be seen.

They couldn't conceive the wealth they held.

How precious the gift was.

They couldn't imagine,

It's limits.

It was never meant to last.

Only when nothing remains,

and the buckets stand dry,

they instantly regret the amount poured into dry lands instead of the needed hands.

Realizing all the sips and drips that were wasted not shared.

As if no one cared.

No drip, no drop,

No tic no toc.

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