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A Rattling Rhyme

The Clockmaker

The old clockmaker sat at his bench
In the shop where he'd lived all his years
With a monocle lens on his eye
And his desk filled with sprockets and gears.

Everything had its place in a drawer.
Every drawer labeled proper and neat. 
Only sound to be heard was the clocks
As they ticked out a monotone beat.

Of the hundreds of clocks there for sale 
Each with spaces on walls or on shelves
Not a one of them told the wrong time
And they all said one minute till twelve

The dark moment he'd feared had arrived
And the clockmaker's face gave a wince 
As each clock confirmed midnight had come
And that now Daylight Savings begins

8.17.18
Contest:  A Rattling Rhyme

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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Date: 8/31/2018 12:52:00 PM
Your story had a great twist at its ending Jesse. Congratulations on your deserving win! : )
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Date: 8/30/2018 1:48:00 PM
Congratulations on your win. Enjoyed this story. Well written.
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Date: 8/29/2018 6:42:00 AM
Haha, love it, Jesse. We had an old clocksmith here in Derby, Mister Savage. A fascinating little shop, a true craftsman, he must have dreaded the time changes. Great write, congrats! regards, Viv
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Date: 8/28/2018 7:13:00 PM
CONGRATULATIONS on your well-deserved win! Janice
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