I track, I measure, I check the ticks.

The clock, the numbers, the count persists.

My voice, my tongue, my brain, the beat.

My time becomes blurry the more I repeat.

A memory appears, and the clock slips away.

A place where a minute, expands to a day.

A place where I played when I was a child.

Then the ticks reappear after awhile.

One, two, thirty nine, forty.

Fifty one, fifty two, fifty three is before me.

Five, six, eleven, twelve.

Was I in the first minute? Second minute? I cannot tell.

A place where my mother, lifted me up.

A place where a that mean kid, once beat me up.

The clock comes back, reappears very loud.

As I dream of the future, a few days from now.

A see-saw, my mind wanders in, out of time.

Like chasing a hare through a dark twisted pine.

The world and it's time, a map leads the way.

But my minutes, and seconds, expand into days.