The Humming Bee.

Ticking of the padded second rolls by like a humming bee,
That moves so fast,
Yet still in time, frozen like ice,
The minutes and seconds grow in attention and speeds up, we notice,
Damage, erosion, decay,

Time is what silently floats past,
Claims, lingers,
How the lingering is always there, always waiting,
You feel time, as it ticks, tocks, always waiting,

And like the humming bee, stings...
Leaving a welt so lasting, so scarring,
Clings to your nerved heart, kissing...
Barring teeth,

You grow,
You move,
You live,
You die,
You see death, claimed by time,

But no shackles hold the wrists of the arms on a clock,
And time never answers when we ask why,
Turned away we grow once more.