The Sound of Time

Sound weighs nothing, says physics.
It is only the perception of air's movement
When interpreted by one's ear.
Small waves of energy push
Smaller particles across an airy sea.

The clock's ticking-ticking
Across the breadth of this great room
Is really nothing but my ear's recognition
Of the second hand's small motions,
Swimming strokes from mark to mark.

Funny how the sound accrues
and gathers weight as the hand works
Its way around the face,
Pouring a burden upon my chest
Under which I suffocate.

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Copyright 2015 Femme Malheureuse
Photo: Toni Verdú Carbó via Flickr