Saturday, November 12, 2011


I think of how he lays in his bed all day

long listening to the ticks from more than

a hundred clocks of all shapes and sizes.

Does someone still wind them each week?

Did some get sold when times got tough?

I wonder if he remembers the auctions,

antique shops and fine furniture galleries.

I think about them chiming on the hour,

half hour, at a quarter of and fifteen after.

All were off a minute or two, never in sync

a good thing for the neighbors and anyone

visiting during the holidays or special dinners.

Strange, his obsession with clocks and time

now holds him prisoner. And after all that

happened, I truly hope he’s at peace when

he hears those sixteen notes and strike for

each hour from his prized Grandfather clock.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

nice...time kept him prisoner...yeah