The Candle and the Clock
This is a poem I did for a class project, but sadly it didn't make the final book thing. Oh well. I thought of it more as a gloomy piece, so I'm not really surprised.
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
The endless ticking of a clock,
Echoing through corridors bare,
Where flickering candles formerly made portraits stare.
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
The ticking of a grandfather clock.
Darkened manor, left to rot,
There’s one candle left, light hard to spot.
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
The sound of an ancient grandfather clock.
The numbers on the ancient dial are endless,
A single hand is winding, friendless.
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
The ancient sound of an ancient clock.
A candle burns in a room so bare,
Not a secret will it share.
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
The timeless telling of the clock.
And here I sit, watching, thinking,
And into depression now, I’m sinking.
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
The winding sound of the timeless clock.
I cannot think of why they are here,
I can only watch and wait in fear.
Tick, tock, tick, tock,
The ticking clock by no means will stop.
The only end to it I know,
Is when the world begins to go.
Posts
