Clock
By Mridula Murugan
On the wall,
it waits without resting,
hands moving
whether anyone looks or not.
A clock is patient
with no hurry,
yet it never stops.
It simply keeps going,
minute after minute,
carrying mornings into afternoons,
afternoons into night.
Sometimes it feels gentle,
like in a quiet classroom
when the light falls across the desks
and the second hand circles
as if nothing in the world
could break the calm.
Other times it feels louder,
a sharper pressure,
when someone is waiting
for an answer,
a decision,
a door to open,
a moment to end.
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