The Little Clock
written by: Elizabeth Berg
The little clock on my nightstand
Going tick, tick, tick
Taunting me with the passing time.
The little clock on my nightstand
speaking softly to the lamp
“She used to be vivacious, they called her gifted,” said the lamp
“What happened?”
“She forgot when she got the box”
The little clock on my nightstand
watching me fall
down, down, down
the little rabbit holes
“She doesn’t hear me tick anymore, she doesn’t know life is passing by”
The little clock on my nightstand
ticking with all its might
watches me look away from the box
and gives the best tick of its little life
The little clock on my nightstand
watches me count
the hours that have gone by
the days that have passed
and the months spent
surrounded by fog
inside and out
The little clock on my nightstand
ticking intensified
hoping, waiting
that I may hear
the little sound it makes
The little clock on my nightstand
watches me put my rectangle down
watches me take a look around
the desolate, dark, dreary room in which I sat
The little clock on my nightstand
watches me wake up
to see that I have surrounded myself with
…nothing, nothing at all
The little clock on my nightstand
going tick, tick, tick
taunting me with the passing of time
woke me up just enough
to see nothing around me
but noise and light
The little clock on my nightstand
clearing the fog of my mind
spoke softly to the lamp
“Is this what she was once like?”
“No, she can never be that person again. But she remembers life again”
The little clock on my nightstand
watches my dull, tired eyes look around the room
and sees my hands pick it up
The little clock on my nightstand
ticked its last tock
as I take out the battery
the noise is too much
it all is too much
- The Little Clock - February 10, 2026
