Clockwork City on National Poetry Day!

The whole complex, road-veined, hill-strewn window-lined network like a coiled watch spring tight with excitement. Lights click on and off in binary code: asleep or awake. Shadowed silhouettes glide behind blinds and curtains, travelling the grooves the cogs the movements of their lives. Teeming activity. At night, an alarming illumination. As the city ticks down….

Father time

You bought me a pocket watch before you were born. One last indulgence to mark the solemnity of fatherhood. Polished it was; never bismirched by fingerprints. Measured ticks marked out your last trimester.   You arrived early and turned nights into days and minutes into hours. The watch marked out your feeds; I like a…