Ticking Clock

It sees the watching hand go by,
without and awkward notion.
Lightly ticks that only minute,
to wake that sleeping ocean.

Clouds roll in with rainstorm mood,
like a waking prey a bird.
With light soft whispers singing free,
but cries are never heard.

Can feel the sun rays fighting back,
but lacks the strength of anger.
To defeat the untamed ticking clock,
and wipe the bloody dagger.

Near night time rises down to south,
yet doth not want to set.
May run with nothing but whispered words,
with a taste of full regret.