Grandfather Clock

Silence drones the space between
the ticking of the clock,
grants eternal patience
swept in pendulum’s play to mock.

The tension of the winding spring
stands the air to crème,
as hopeful hesitation calms
the pensive chimes to dream.

Built to serve a purpose.
Left to witness life.
Counting every breaking hour
twixt sweeps of joy and strife.

Dusted here in tender care
by shaking grey and lucid hands,
in hopes to hear its chimes once more
and toll this hall’s passing, grand,
for yet another hour.

2 Comments

Filed under History, Memory, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

2 responses to “Grandfather Clock

  1. I love those clocks! they are piece of beauty and craftmanship.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s