New Years Eve

By Margaret Melva Oldroyd

The clocks in my house talk to me,

But only when I am alone.

The house stands empty, save me.

My mind echoes in the vacant home.

But only when I am alone,

Do I feel the passing time, pressing.

My mind echoes in the vacant home,

And the clocks continue to talk.

“Do I feel the passing time pressing?”

I ask the ticks and tocks

And the clocks continue to talk,

Saying nothing in the end.

I ask the ticks and tocks

Why they must scream on,

While saying nothing in the end.

“please” a whisper “stop”

Why, they must scream on,

Else I’d no past to return to.

“Please” a whisper, “stop,

Give them up.” Say the clocks.

Else I’d no past to return to,

I won’t acknowledge the passing time.

“give them up” say the clocks.

But my eyes glazed over before midnight.

I won’t acknowledge the passing time,

hands raised in surrender,

But my eyes glazed over before midnight,

I hardly notice the year is lost

Hands raised in surrender,

The clocks in my house talk to me,

I hardly notice the year is lost.

The house stands empty. Save me.

By Margaret Melva Oldroyd