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the clock maker
written by: Tim Gallagher
06-06-2001
I know a man who works alone in missouri
he makes clocks by hand, I saw him working
carefully he carves the wood
thoughtfully he sands it smooth
he's a wordworker in his spare time
weaving wonderful verse, making simple rhyme
one night I saw him smooth his words
removed rough edges made them birds
when he's alone with his pen and paper
he doesn't worry, alone for him is safer
just the tick tock sounding in his ears
he's free to write down dreams and fears
scritch scratch goes his pen on the desk
writing as if he had something to confess
perhaps he does, perhaps his heart is heavy
swirling there a personal confessional eddy
the next morning early at his workbench
carving his clocks like a man in a trench
dodging bullets of sameness and monotony
knowing his heart is borderline mutiny
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