Tethered by Time
What does the mirror’s stare, its careful reflection, speak to you?
A mirror’s glancing back
I scan the clock.
In its reflection, 4:30 reads 8:30,
or does it say half past seven?
The mirror is staring at me, but I can’t stare back through it.
I stand and track the reversal of time that takes me back to
the late evening warmth and moonlit zephyrs of stolen hope.
The sun on the cusp of the horizon says
And the birds in their chambers of
ruffled feathers echo
their songs on the
that tells of the chirping time.
The morning call at three.
The mirror perched at nine.
A day begins, four hours before its due.
I saunter into the bathroom trailed only by
my haunting shadow.
The mirror reveals gray hairs lining
up on the crown of my head.
The fading brunettes of a prime lost to
time as regret stares back
Oh why does that mirror stare at me so?
Revealing my weakness, and ergo, my ego?
The thumping in my chest refuses to cease
and I wish for the alarm to blare on
Reminding that I woke too early,
but I am still too late for
It will not sound. Not on a day like today
when the mirror mocks my soft, white grays.
The creases in my forehead breathe into corners of my eyes
Pockets pressured by time.
Wary am I to remember this woman,
Of course, dear mirror, it can’t be I!
4:35 or 8:35 and twelve seconds says the clock.
I have lost four hours to sleep.
What disdain we must have for the chore that makes us
Wake up with wrinkles.
Wake up with shock.
Wake up with a souvenir to say –
We never stopped the
Time won’t let me control it
Nor tell it when to start or stop.
It ticks, it tocks, ever the clock.
4:39 is nearly quarter to nine o’clock.
Round and round we
program the clock.
To unify schedules –
To shame the clock for its reticent pace
And to aggravate the clock when it’s too slow for our race.
This life we conceive through
Minutes and seconds
Hours and days
of wasting away.
To hate the clock for its unfailing beat
To tame the clock as time evaporates underneath our feet.
To borrow the clock when we’ve lost our way
And to disregard the clock when we are too early or too late.
I have to do it all
I have to be the best
Slow down the clock for
this mind needs solemn rest.
I see past the anchor of the daily alarm,
A place I wish to be –
If only I knew I would lose every moment in facing uncertain
I long for more time and fail to quell the nobility of
But to race the clock with blinders is folly.
The partition of my door says, “Get out and take the world!”
It’s ten to five, it’s ten to nine,
I am still here wondering, lost in the moments of fleeting time.
In the end the clock will win for its steady state of
Enduring movement, killing off the
While I will lose because I cannot
control its will to kill the seconds that turn my svelte shadow amorphous.
Time will ever control me, it will ever beat me down and
Take me out long before I reach the destiny of slowing down.
Now it’s 5:00 or is it really ten past nine?
The mirror looks on and smiles as I threaten to
stop the time.
Stop the madness.
Stop the tranquil ticking,
life is drained by
Help for now or
Help for then
Help for when I thought the time would tell the mirror to
look away and tell me I have another day
To wash away the wrinkles and to comb away the grays.
We can’t turn back the time.
Tethered to the cadence
At four o’clock or eight
At three o’clock or nine.
The tethered cadence laughing
This beat we keep called time.
Six hours yet but lost to sleep –
To sleep and drifting time.
Hours never once returned
Hours fading to the end
Seconds, minutes, hours, days,
Placated by the coming grays….
Seconds, minutes, hours, days,
Achieved failure, the mirror stares –
At last it has come my way.