Written by Niamh Kelly
Art by carlos copete

The quiet ticking of the hallway clock
is the underlying pulse of the house.
Unheard over the chaos of life,
of school runs, morning commutes,
of social gatherings, late night returns.
Routine regularity running without pause.
Elements of life turning each other like clogs.
Eventually, a lapse must come in activity,
the heart beat allowed to slow.
The regular tick-tock, tick-tock is
only noticed when everyone is lying still, unable to rest,
and listening to the steadfast rhythm that lulls them to sleep.