We get cuckoo clocks,
Each year we get a different one.
I love the new one even more.
I like them very much, I say.
But when you grow up, it gets to be a bore.
My parents laugh confusedly.
and give each other a look.
What should we do, they wonder,
but continue reading their book.
As the holidays come, I already miss the clocks.
I feel as if my heart is broken in half.
On Christmas, "Where are the clocks?"I ask.
My parents shrug and laugh.