Timer

The quiet click of a kitchen timer,
its brass face ticking through the afternoon,
counting down the moments while the dough
rises, fragrant, in the warm, yeasty gloom.

A sand‑filled glass, the ancient hourglass,
grains slipping slow like amber thoughts,
each grain a heartbeat, each pulse a whisper
of time that lingers, then is caught.

On the phone, a digital chime,
bright numbers flashing in neon green,
a reminder set for tea, for meetings,
for the brief escape from the routine.

In the gym, the stopwatch’s relentless stare,
splitting seconds into triumph or defeat,
athletes chase the fleeting promise
of a personal best, a fleet‑footed feat.

Whether mechanical, electronic, or grain,
the timer holds our restless sway—
a faithful sentinel, measuring
the invisible flow of night and day.