Seconds tick on like a metronome of life
Whispering that there is less and less left of it
Here am I waiting waiting waiting
Striving to reach one goal then another then the next
When will this work bear fruit
Or am I missing the fruit already born
The lives already touched
Do I only see the forest
And have no sight of the trees
Listening to the tick of the clock
I learn to live in the seconds
Deborah Horton Writing 