squirrel on a clock

time turned back, to fail us of our regrets;

inter-galactic narrowed, mother earths’s;

parallel yous is farther than usual for us;

and we go back right till the stone ages.

the end of the gag, no seventh day ever;

FLIP ‘n million years, a squirrel’s scamper;

we are somewhere between two points;

supposed to be ‘n would have been points!

another squirrel flipped its clock due to this;

and a million paths we go at the same time;

gazillion magnitude of decision trees, events;

only the squirrels didn’t know about the time.

million squirrels, million clocks, possibilities;

like bubbles, they explode into years n years;

we are here and we are not, the clocks flip;

so randomly, it resembles a contiguous clip.

she did turn back after she left, for the kiss;

no harm, as he did miss saying those words,

there was one who understood the clocks;

the squirrels and the flip, until some flips.

damn, in the middle of this land of trees;

stands a squirrel, atop the moving prisons

the prisons of time, locked in those hands;

it’s a clock, it knows nothing of the quartz.

darn, it’s not one squirrel and one clock;

wreaking havoc on the time scale of ours;

million squirrels, million clocks, possibilities;

like bubbles, they explode into years n years;