the ticking of a clock

the ticking of a clock
somehow melodiously
reminds me of
the plucking of grass
on a field not too long ago
or was that
20 years
gone by already fast
steady bye
is the tire swing that
used to hang and sway
in the island wind
and the creaking trees
blown down by storms
long past forgotten
scars never healed
yet somehow
integrated into a new
memory of a body
now wrinkled, soft
and warm.

Just took a break from studying and I somehow managed to concentrate on my course material despite the constant ticking of my watch. I’ve always found comfort in the tick and tock of a clock – and I don’t think it’s any coincidence that I took note of my watch while reading my course text: Adulthood and Aging.

This poem is about the immediacy of our memories and how we can experience something long passed as recently as the afternoon wind blowing on our face. I tried to capture the beauty of aging and the joy and pleasure of feeling old in old bones. There is something comforting in the fact that our bodies continue to grow and lose youth. In the absence of that vitality is a patience, a love, and a kind of peace that mirrors life. “Death is the easy part” is a quote that comes to mind, and the acceptance of an aging body somehow reconciles the gradual loss of ephemeral youth. I live with my grandparents and they are a constant reminder that life is meant for every age, and that aging is beautiful. I hope this gives you the same feeling.

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