A metal shell, a face so plain,
With numbers bold in sun or rain.
The steady tick, a rhythmic beat,
Announcing hours bitter or sweet.
No gentle chimes, no subtle sound,
But a jarring buzz that shook the ground.
A sudden jolt, a rude embrace,
Dragging us from sleep's soft space.
We'd slap the top with sleepy hand,
To silence its insistent command.
A moment's...
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