the forlorn grandfather clock
its pendulum a metronome for life
chiming it away with each hour
the dead of night
time seemingly stands still
memories over spill
like a boiling pot
persistent as the ticking clock
The mind darkens
thoughts swinging to and fro
like the pendulum, tick-tock
mimicking the beating heart:
lub-dub, lub-dub
each sound marking the passage
of a life passing by;
lub-dub, lub-dub
mimicking the pendulum;
tick-tock, tick-tock
the grandfather signals mortality
is the stark reality
each tick and haunting tock
is a chink of life ebbing away:
tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock
