Floating in, and out of, consciousness.
Listening to the tick tock, tick tock of the clock.
The soft pitter patter of rain on the ground like babies feet.
Breathe deep. Breathe deep.
There is something missing, a great something.
No cars, no voices, no television or radio.
Brought back to a time before these things,
when there was only time. A clock.
A single monotonous voice ringing out in the night,
as if to say, "You've got all the time in the world
to lay in bed and listen to my tick tock, tick tock.
And the soft pitter patter of rain drops on the cement
like so many little babies feet."
