His Constant Companion
Albert Nelson's father bought a huge clock, the very day he was born,
A happy fellow, with a winsome smile. Like the merry pink sun, at dawn.
Being too tall for the shelf, it stood inside their foyer, for ninety years,
Without the penchant to be slumbering. Tick, tock, tick-joys and tears!
Albert loved to watch its pendulum swing, when he was a young boy.
Like gazing at rich black skies, and loving the champagne, starlight joy.
Fish and frogs frolicked during the fruitful friendships of Albert's youth;
When purple finches flew with the fireflies, at sunsets of natural truth.
Fragrant fields felt sun fever, in mellow moments that went on and on;
Then flaming flowers oozed colors, as distant family, visited on the lawn.
Albert lived in the house of alacrity, in step with the drumbeat of days;
As nightingales sing at plum starlight, once out of maize, sunshine phase.
The polished, handsome clock had only one requirement-to be wound,
Once every Friday. Like cyclic clockwork seasons, for beauty renowned!
Scarlet tanagers soared up singing, on their street of starlit moonlight.
Or strawberry sunrises of summer, afore dark, shadows' afternoon flight.
Melancholy whippoorwills gave notice, during the cherry passion of dusk,
That night and neighbors were coming, immersed in scarlet, moon dust.
'Vanilla bean' orchids added spice to summer, as blue, 'dream' lilies slept;
And 'black eyed Susans' stared soulfully, in old, green halls, windswept.
'Glamour girl' phlox was forever beautiful, which many stares confirmed.
'Raspberry sundae blend' tulips got licked, sure as gold-grey stars burned.
Albert inherited the clock and the house, the both of which he treasured;
And the clock served him tirelessly, like unspoken heart's desires, heard.
His grandson said he'd told him, that his clock's service was unsurpassed;
Like redbirds rising on fall mornings, to pluck blueberries from green grass.
Albert carried his pretty bride across the threshhold, at age twenty-four;
And the clock struck as he entered, as if it knew what had gone before!
The clock's alarm, had been mute for many years, yet sounded as he died,
In the middle of moonlit, plum night, burgundy moonlight near his bedside.
That loyal clock never worked again. It was as if its purpose was fulfilled,
For noble time can be a best friend, like tangelo stars, opal nights thrilled!
'My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor.
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride.
But it stopped short, Never to go again,
When the old man died.
Ninety years without slumbering,
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
His life seconds numbering,
Tick, tock, tick.
It stopped short, never to go again,
When the old man died.
In watching its pendulum Swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent as a boy;
And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know,
And to share both his grief and his joy.
For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door,
With a blooming and beautiful bride.
But it stopped short, never to go again,
When the old man died.
My grandfather said that of those he could hire,
Not a servant so faithful he found.
For it wasted no time, and had but one desire,
At the close of each week to be wound.
And it kept in its place, not a frown upon its face,
And its hand never hung by its side.
But it stopped short, never to go again,
When the old man died.
It rang an alarm In the dead of the night,
An alarm that for years had been dumb.
And we knew that his spirit was pluming its flight,
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time, with a soft and muffled chime,
As we silently stood by his side.
But it stopped short, never to go again,
When the old man died.'
Copyright ©
Evelyn Judy Buehler
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