Precautions - a poem about three clocks

three clocks tick-tack in my room

as if I wasn’t sure that morning will ever come

unless time will be precisely measured.

so, as a precaution,

this room has three clocks

if one stops, another will be the heart of the night

beating until the much-awaited morning

will make it again.

one clock ticks with a hoarse voice

like a general leading his army to the battle,

then there is the soft, hesitant voice of another

like a demoiselle with a white lace umbrella,

and, finally, there is the sharp voice of the old watch

covering everything, like the yell of a deaf.

my night attendants

with their untuned voices

are followed by my heart

the clock I always carry

as a precaution

in case the three clocks stop.

Photo by Malvestida Magazine on Unsplash