​Bound by its strictures
as it marks my
steady declension,
measuring out my life
with singular beats.
I am moved
by unseen
wheels and gears
driven by the bellows.
With a hand to my face,
the second hand sweeps
and I wind down
more quickly
when I am wound
too tight.
Powered by divinity,
but with an
expiration date.
M. Zane McClellan
Copyright © 2016
All rights reserved

The Daily Post prompt: Clock