Always steady and stable; keeps moving forward.
Two hands on the move, but always pointing northward.
Around her sits 4 walls,
too thick to penetrate and too tall.
An eager student looked into the window from his corridor.
A rose grew at his feet, at the crack of the door.
He knew inside there was light filling the room,
because it's growing roses pushing through in full bloom.
Students tell him only a few are allowed in.
He should just give up and come join them.
He tenderly touches this fragile flower and thinks to himself,
"This may not be the hour but there are plenty of them left."
So I'll cherish this flower protruding into my corridor
until the teacher comes willing to unlock the door.
Until then I am happy knowing with each tick and each tock,
seeds of love are being planted near the light of her clock.