Fields of Time

the fields of time go on forever

Watching over
the fields of time,
the trees stand guard,
sinister in their stillness,
with crooked limb
and glowing eyes.
Throughout the field,
each bloom a clock
counting down the seconds
of each and every life;
marking each minute,
harkening each hour.
Oh the numbers
of that vast sea!
The cacophony
of hands tick-ticking,
the solemn finality
as each clock ticks
its final tock.
The growing din
as each silent clock
is replaced in kind
by a few shiny new ones,
adding to the discord.

About this poem: ▶︎

Written for: "Invalid Item"  Octoberfest Round 4
Prompt: ** Image ID #2092030 Unavailable **
Line Count: 24
Free Verse