Moons & Clocks

I wait for the moon

to show up,

but I fall asleep.

The clock on my wall

falls too.

It breaks into pieces,

splinters and shards. 

The hour-hand dislodges

heavy, like

my ageing mother. 

The minute-hand still

ticks, like

I  for you,

when we met. 

A jagged central crack-

deep in shadows

like a burial site. 

I lost my clock. 

So I wait for the moon. 

It does not show up. 

Or may be,

it does! 

I never find out. 

I keep falling asleep.