I do not know what happened
To shift the orbit of my globe-shaped eyes
But now they're crooked to the stars -
The constellation map of yesterday.
And the sky like a silent time machine
Displays pinpricks already faded
Into perhaps the dark of tomorrow -
Which will be shown at a later date.
No, I do not know what happened
To shift my gaze and crook my neck
But at the stars they're pointed now
And I don't know where next.
YOU ARE READING
Clockwork Lives
PoetryAn anthology of love and lies; choice and change; fate and free will. Lives interlocking like clockwork and yet not at all like clockwork.
