The Clock - Part 2

There goes the sun,
And here it comes again.
The tiny hand of my clock,
Will tick all day,
And I will stare at it, all day,
And watch the sun go down again.

Then, on a brand new day,
Someday,
When I look to the west,
I will see the sun rise,
And that will be the day,
That the tiny hand,
So bored of routine,
Will actually turn otherwise.

May be that day,
I will go home early,
Come back to work,
And go home,
To have breakfast and wake up.
May be that day,
I will wake up to my sleep,
And sleep off to awakedness,
On a dark drowsy last night.

Then, some other day,
I will rise up in the east,
And the sun can go to work,
Instead of me.
May be he will set,
A few things right for me.
That day,
You will all feel very hot,
And I will make sure,
You soak in sweat.

That day,
I will travel the whole world,
And say “Hi” to many friends,
Spread around the world.
Some of them feel neglected, you know.
The rest,
Mired in their busy schedules,
Have no time to spare.
But they can always,
Look up to the sky,
And find me there.
May be that day,
I will tell them,
All that I have never,
Been able to say.

Later in the evening,
I will promptly fade away,
Into the night,
And never come back.

I wonder,
Will anybody miss me the next day?



(Update: Found time and added to my short story)