The hands spin ‘round the clock
while the organist plays.
Where will they linger, 
where will they stop?
what time is it today?

With one hand passing jubilation
and the other touching joy,
the music will soar through the world
like a symphony of the masters,
and blissful sounds will fill the air.
But watch the clock face carefully
for time relentlessly moves on,
and before you even know it, 
it's half past happiness
moving on towards despair.

The hands spin ‘round the clock
while the organist still plays.
Where will they linger, 
where will they stop?
what time is it today?

He hammers out the notes
on the organ’s left hand keys,
the clock is stuck on darkness
just mere minutes before gloom.
Ticking, ticking, deafening to the ear.
The minutes pass like hours, 
then suddenly the tempo slows,
it’s a quarter past acceptance
with forgiveness half an hour away,
maybe the time for calm is near.

Spinning, spinning,
as the music plays and plays
the clock hands never stop,
no one ever can predict
what time it is today.




january 2003
©Janet Reid