Grandfather Clock

 

Why does the grandfather clock keep ticking?

When it knows it will be thrown

It’s not to serve an objective

Since the purpose it has served is worn

 

The wood built like metal

As if forged from iron

But delicately spun like silk

And the time that is spent 

To make time itself bend to the crafter's will

 

The hours tick by as quick as the seconds

On our magical grandfather clock.

As it perseveres to another second of existence

It tick…tick…ticks 

 

My grandfather clock.

Time seems to fall away

Like sand slipping through your hand.

This sand could fill an hourglass

Another tool to measure time.

Yet this one does not count the memories.

Only measuring finite amounts 

​

We move on; we create our own stories

Adventures and tales so brilliant

The hours tick by as quick as the seconds

Seconds are memories, 

Hours, generations.

Time that never seems to age

 

The grandfather clock keeps ticking

Telling stories of better days

Aging hands

The clock’s ticking slows

As the gears start corroding

What once was, becomes a past sung narrative

Like a plant

Without the light of scintillating humor,

Without the roots of sagacity

The grandfather clock embodied these virtues

But day, at long last, turns to night

 

And yet, we remain standing.

Why do I hear the grandfather clock ticking?

I hear love embodied in an aging face, worn hands

I remember my grandfather’s life