It’s a Nightmare

I could hear each tick of my watch,
On my wrist—under my pillow,
And this thought invaded my nap,
“How odd that I can hear ticking
From a watch that sweeps silently.”
Then my sleep must have taken me
To a place where I could see
The movement of the second hand
Jerking its way around the face—
Tick—tick—tick—tick—tick—tick—tick—tick.
A man appeared tied to the hand
Circling like a waterwheel
At a mill in an old Bond flick—
With each sweep of the second hand
The tied-man was taken under
The, power-creating, water
And the man was drowning in time
And time, with a flick, came ablaze—
Time was the fire in which he burned,
It was time holding him captive,
It was time spinning the mill wheel,
It was time holding him under,
Time was the water burning him.
And I woke from the dream soaking,
And the cool day had turned scorching,
And I could hear my watch ticking—
Tick—tick—tick—tick—tick—tick—tick—tick.