The Old Clock
Tick tock, tick tock,
Hands move slowly around.
Every second, every hour.
Old reliable, sturdy standing alone.
Longing for the day to pass.
Daylight beams cast shadows.
Carefully listen to the sound.
Lightly, softly, rhythmic.
Odour of oak and polish.
Clean with care leave no scratches.
Kneeling down closing the last latches.
Copyright © Valerie Maratzzi | Year Posted 2020
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