Clock in Guest Room
by Mary Ann Meade

The clock striking, I turn the hands back.
Hear voices I never heard before,

Words spoken from room to room.
Now and then, I hear the clock's extra tick

On the second hand. Hear the ring
of another clock in another room, another century.

Best not listen. Best not,
The burst of words from a distraught lover,

Bringing the pendulum to a stop.
Best replace the spring, rewind gently.

Even be late for the morning bus.

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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