I had a clock,

that could chime a thousand times,

but never took the time to stop.

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It was never silent long enough to hear,

or peer out from the mantle top,

nor heed voices passing by,

sometimes whisper quiet,

some times angry high.

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To concentrate enough to hear,

gathering rust from catching tears,

would be a waste of time,

such unnecessary fuss.

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I had a clock that never paused nor stopped.

Nattering, tick tock, tick tock,

over spitting, crackling fires,

and chattered on,

while rain,

on window's dripped and dropped,

Still it never paused a moment,

blind to dawn reflected in its burnished cogs,

it gazed unflinchingly ahead,

no beating heart,

inside, so cold and dead,

ignoring winter storms,

or summer sun,

from past to future,

it fixed its piercing gaze ahead.

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To every second it adhered,

inward to its task it watched,

and in its soulless movement,

was every precious moment lost.

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