Time

Time

There is never enough time, is there?

I notice the hands stop moving,

then the clock shatters into

pieces. The man with the

pocket watch tells me

not to worry.

He tells me

not to

go.

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Hi there, thanks for reading. I'm writing some more poetry lately, trying to stretch my poetry muscles before April, which is National Poetry Month.

This is a nonet poem, a nine-line poem with 1 less syllable per line. I got this prompt from @AmyKayPoetry — it was one of her prompts last year, and it’s still in her Instagram highlight for writing prompts.

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Not ready for that kind of commitment? I get it. If you liked this, I recommend checking out Cheers, another poem, or Graveside, a piece of short fiction.