My Clock With Broken Hands

RDP Friday: TRANSITION

Photo by Mark Neal on Pexels.com

From an embrace to a kiss

then

to muscle and bone

to a beating heart to fingers to a spinal column

a Galaxy of promise waiting to be born.

 

To a student, to a traveler to defeat and despair

to the good days when the air smells good

 and my  face hurts from laughing.

 

From heartbeat to pulse

am I just a collection of moments  wrapped in  skin?

 

From sleeping to dreaming to waking

my clock with broken hands  tries to keep time

and it will, like it’s supposed to

until

it

just

stops.