Stolen Time

A story about time

There are many beautiful clocks in the world. The one I share with you is not one of them.
It’s a silver-grey uninteresting clock. An alarm clock. Plastic. Battery operated. As I lay in bed surrounded by darkness, I can hear the mesmerisingly tick, tick, ticking as it embraces time. As it steals precious time.

I want it to stop. I want to embrace this moment just for now, before I have to get up, but I can’t; it won’t stop. I could take the battery out. Ha! I told you I’d make you stop …didn’t I. But simply removing the battery, won’t stop the tick, tick, ticking of time, slowly drifting away. Will it?

Time will not stop for me, nor will it stop for you. It will stop for no-one. I want to hold this moment; embrace it; make room for it; keep it close; as though embracing time itself. But I can’t. We all know I can’t.

It’s an amazing moment. A fleeting second. And then it’s gone. Like the grim reaper taking its haul, the clock takes time. It waits, then pounces. Seconds tick by… become minutes; hours; days; weeks; months; years and yes decades. And all that bloody clock does; not so silently, is tick, tick, tick.

Another second lost. Another second stolen.