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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2071763
From an image comes this poem...
our perfect clock

Flipped, flopped
A warped paradox of numbers
Circling a dial
Odd that they are shifted
Like we have passed through
Some minute break in space
Once thought inherent
We see it twisted and warped...
We stare at the numbers
Wondering...
Is it almost ten to three?
Or is it.. ten after nine?
Or.... ten to nine?
Blast!
It doesn’t really matter
I am probably late anyway....
Late for something I can’t remember
Something I have inadvertently forgotten.
Not to worry.
Those who know me expect me to be late....
They must all think
My mind is a dazed
As this image
Conjured and reflected
Back as nonsense
But those of us with a creative streak
We know different.
It's all relative.


28 lines.

Prompt for: Jan 13, 2016 (fyn)
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