Round, gold-metal framed, perched on the shelf in the tiny living room
this was our clock,
not the round, square or fancy plastic or wooden ones we hang on our slickly painted walls of our homes today.
The small clock suited our house, not too big to drown our vibes into time or, too small to disappear into oblivion as we tend to search for our phones or wristwatches
busy as we are with the chatter in our brains or tongues, whatever the case may be.
A third-grade assignment demanded a clock drawn to understand time. Always ready to sit down to sketch or paint if only to avoid studying,
draw I did this clock in my notebook
only to be reprimanded by Miss D'costa for lying that the clock drawn was by me and none else.
What memories a clock from life's time machine could bring back to me!
Nostalgia! Miss D'Costa's indirect compliment!
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