Four Thirteen and Forty-One Seconds

C. Michael Ashley 4/15/14

Four Thirteen and Forty-One Seconds

A poem By: C. Michael Ashley

4/15/14

5th

Through the face I see the marks. All drawn with precision. All drawn in dark.

The hands are in indecision. Four Thirteen and Forty-One seconds. The piece stays motionless.

Why do I keep that? I always beckon. Heritage old sport, none the less.

The lense glares back. All considered I assure. Still no tick-tack. The item brings to me allure.

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