On the arm of a clown
In walks the watch
Of a clown

“Ding,” it sadly dings.
“Beep beep,” maybe.
A clown’s watch’s work
Is never done.

Until Thursday, of course.
Then it’s done.
Goes home to watchville
And couchpotatoes out in front of the TV
Becoming the watcher.
Deep, huh?

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 21st, 2005 at 10:38 am and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.