My old clock I wind
And much philosophy therein find.
I can bring
The pendulum’s swing
To a stop With my hand,
Yet I can not command
Time to default
On his duty and halt
The passing of the years.
He has no ears
For our laughter and tears
And his sickle will swing on
Long after we are gone.
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K Morris - Poet 
Reblogged this on K Morris – Poet.
I love the imagery.
Thank you. I’m pleased you like my poem. Best wishes, Kevin