Water Clock

It started soft, a gentle beat,

A rhythm I could almost keep.

But now it’s more a slow defeat,

While I pretend I am asleep.

The dark stain spreads beneath the spout,

A tiny map of my despair.

Each drop calls out,

A tiny shout,

A question hanging in the air.

When will it stop? Will I ever rest?

This liquid clock, it knows me best.