Daily

Under the watch of the clock,

the noise of yesterday still repeats

the sound goes on, tic-tac, tic-tac, tic-tac

Like the beats of fingers in the wood desk

the sounds, like slow waves coming

reaching the beach, being received

on the coast by the clear sand

in a harminous blend

of what's coming and what's still here,

A natural mix of eternal changing.

Author Notes: Hello to anyone who might be reading this, I just wanted to say that this is sort of an experiment for me (I've never wrote any poems in English, and I don't know if my grammar is good enough), but anyway, I'll try to improve in the future, so thanks for reading!! \(￣︶￣\))

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