Like Clockwork

Like Clockwork

My main spring
Is stretched with age
Like the clockwork
That I am
Always kept wound
But not too tight
Many years
I've sat on life's mantle
Observing
Trying
Not to interfere
The second spring
In my works
Is for the purpose of sound
It is always wound
But not too tight
I can not
Prevent myself
From expressing
My thoughts
My sounds
There are moments
Where I sit idol
Day after day
Not one word escapes
My body
But how I do love
The rhythmic
Back and forth movement
Within me
I listen
To myself
I relax
My outer shell
Has grown old
Dusty with age
My lens
Dirty
Fogged
But I know
Who I am
I grow old
I wait for someone
New to keep me wound