
Far away in woodland cold,
A boy eyes blue and hair of gold.
Upon a rock he sat himself,
And pondered life atop the shelf.
“Will fortune upon me smile,
Bringing love to me a while?
E’er the fates would be so bold
To grant this gift before I’m old.
You see the clock is ticking, ticking,
Faithful as the moon controls the waves.
Oh the clock is ticking, ticking,
Pushing us t’ward our graves”
The boy was met by Faerie lass.
She held to him a looking glass.
“Methinks,” says she, “that ye shall find
Answers in this glass o’ mine.
Mortals often conjure me
To learn of fate and mystery.
Though they can see with their eyes,
Fear will shroud vision with lies.
You see, the clock is ticking, ticking,
Faithful as the moon controls the waves.
Yet your mind is sticking, sticking,
Fearing time to your grave.”
He saw himself in years afar,
A humble man, no tear or scar.
Eyes of love, smile warmly,
Though no one else, only he.
Puzzled, the boy slid off the shelf.
“So I must learn to love myself?”
Smiling bright, said Fae to he,
“An’ loveless ye shall ne’er be.”
You see the clock is ticking, ticking,
Faithful as the moon controls the waves.
Oh the clock is ticking, ticking.
Love yourself, yourself you save.



Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.