Insides howling,
I’m a Grandfather clock
Wound too tight.
Checklist ticking.
Minutes ticking.
Bomb ticking.
One week, 7 days,
168 hours, 10,080 minutes.
A kid’s night before Christmas.
Phone off. Nature on.
Birds, wind, sun, rain,
Footsteps and breath.
Ready it not,
Here I come.
I love Tater’s face! And the anticipation you build in your lines as well.
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