Discerniblity of Time

Time passes, grain by grain like
Cooked rice in a baby's mouth.
Then it turns discernible tick of a clock
In night to hail upon sleepy senses.

You don't realize how you grew tall
And wrinkles on Grandpa's face
Progressively increased. Then,
Grandma dies leaving a void in
The family of seven.

Father's command over his gait
Changes, mother's saree starts to
Shed bright colors. Your brother's
Pants passed over to you fall short
And you grow a bit of hair on
The face and a lot, elsewhere.

Time then starts leaving marks,
And scars, claiming a couple of
Friends- one to marriage, one to
Unbearable debts and another to
A highway on a rainy day.

What once hailed upon you
At night, eventually gets to you
In the morning as you sit alone
Staring at the empty cups.
The ticks turn into threads of
Loneliness strewn across your
Coffin-like walls.

You count them initially but now
It doesn't really matter.