The chime
Of my old, staid
Clock, does remind
me that there is a debt
To be paid.
But time,
Ends all regret.
Chime
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Tag Archives: clocks
I can Choose
I can choose
To wind my clock,
Or not,
As the case may be.
But, if I lose
The key,
Time will not stop
For me.
When Clever Men
When clever men
Hear the clock,
They say,
“We do not
Accept the concept
Of time”.
And the poet composes
A simple rhyme
About roses,
Past their prime.
Out of Time
My clock’s chime
Is out of time,
Yet I care not
For I see
In my clock
A protest, against modernity.
Its A Brief Stroll
Its a brief stroll
Through the churchyard for me
And my soul.
And although there be
No clock in the church tower,
To chime
The hour
For me,
Time
Must stop
And there will be
No more need of clock
For thee
Or me.
My Hands Are Cold
My hands are cold
And I am growing old.
The wall clock measures time
As I rhyme
Of young women
And sinning.
But I am growing old
And my hands are cold.
When The Clock Does Stop
When the clock
Does stop,
You can wind
It again.
But when
The brain,
(Some say mind)
Ceases to be,
What shall become
Of you and me?
For there is no sun
To see,
And we,
Can not rewind.
