Big Hand, Little Hand

Grandfather used to tell me
never race around the clock.

He said, at midnight
a bell will sound and
turn a day into a memory.

I ignore him
and chase the hand in front of me
only to catch it for a minute
twenty-two times a day.

For when I do,
I say not a word.
We exchange glances and
continue our separate ways.

As I reach midnight
and the bell rings once more,
I finally realize why
Grandfather said what he did.

We can go around and around
all we want to
reaching stops along the way,
but it’s only a single lap
of a never-ending race

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