Buddha Thoughts (Hands On The Clock)

the old woman shot and killed the boy that broke in and tried to rob her... she sat staring into space while the policemen did their job... suddenly she began to weep... they tried to comfort her, but she just wept harder. they told her it was over, that she was all right. she finally spoke in a broken voice: 'i was thinking about my son...' 'where is he? we'll get him for you, bring him to you...' 'he's in prison... he got messed up on pills... ran out, and robbed a store... he killed the woman behind the counter.' frozen in deathlike silence, one by one, they looked down. they loaded the body into the wagon, her old cat ran from the porch... an empty swing hung from a gnarled old tree... a small trail of blood, and there was no wind! her old Bible unopened... the hands on the clock kept crawling.