The reaper moves
In time with the pendulum.
No rush
Or fuss
He has plenty of time.
My patient friend
whose tick portends
my inevitable end.
You rest in state
on my bookcase.
Tick tock
I can not stop
time’s sithe.
None can survive
his cut.
Though in a cupboard my clock be shut
death can not be put
aside
The sickle chops
And the heart will, one day, stop.
K Morris - Poet 
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Reblogged this on K Morris – Poet and commented:
I have long been fascinated by clocks and time itself and this is reflected in many of my poems. I am reblogging one such, “Time”, which first appeared here back in 2015. The clock in question still sits, in pride of place, on the bookcase in my living room and adorns the cover of my collection of poems, “My Old Clock I Wind and Other Poems”. Incidentally another clock (which sits on the dresser in my living room) appears on the front cover of my collection, “The Writer’s Pen and Other Poems”.