As I try to write
The tick tock
Of the clock
Measures my day and night.
At other times
Lost in rhymes
I hear it not.
The beat of women’s feet
Has measured my pleasure
And pain. But the clock mocks
Us all. We fall
In love and lust,
And time turns all to dust.
K Morris - Poet 
A lovely poem, Kevin.
Thank you, Robbie. I’m pleased you like my poem
The clock ticks relentlessly, Kevin.
It certainly does, Vivienne. As I reply to your comment, I can hear the tick tock of the wall clock which is just to the right of the dining table.