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I hear the ticking,

of the old wooden clock.

It keeps perfect time,

and remains solid as rock.


At the top of the hour,

a chime fills the house.

It awakens the cat,

and alarms the mouse.


This fine time piece,

was found by my gramps.

During time spent in Germany,

living in army camps.


I make sure to keep it polished,

wiping it smoothly with love,

As I make certain it shines,

in memory of grandfather above.


It’s funny how an ornament,

can rekindle our past.

Of good days with family,

a moment in time that doesn’t last.


The hands of the clock,

are pointed straight overhead.

I think it is about time,

for me to find my bed.


Should you happen upon,

my old German farm home.

The one off the main road,

near the temple with a dome.


Come up to the door,

and make sure you knock.

I’ll let you inside,

to see grandfather’s old clock.




#poem #poetry #family #time #history #life

‍*** Andre Davison is the writer of this satirical and/or informative post.  All people are presumed innocent until proven guilty. I do not advocate violence or violating the law of any country. I retain ownership rights over the materials used, except for images and those materials cited in links from other sites, which are beyond my control. Comments in this blog are our opinion. Thanks for visiting Relative Insanity!

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