Poem: Grandfather Clock – 07/01/20

 You are a grandfather clock,
 grand, looming, and majestic, 
 with a cabinet of stained ornate timber, 
 and that entrance which houses all things fantastic.
 I will sit before you,
 cross-legged as I listen to you regale me with tales 
 of steady, calming ticking, 
 a metronome of eternity,
 a heavy heartbeat within your formality.
 I watch with anticipation as your hands travel 
 with such expertise,
 upon that face,
 around and around, 
 increments, perfection, 
 you know how to please,
 because the satisfaction which comes with arranged time
 is achieved through perching before you,
 and taking in all that I can see. 
 You are the timekeeper of the devil’s march, 
 you take careful note of what occurs as your 
 ticks and whirs 
 count down —
 as if any of us were keeping time, but you,
 you are aware of your dial.
 You are suddenly not as majestic as you once appeared,
 you are insidious, you hide behind 
 antiquity and reputation,
 but your age has weathered your assumed 
 goodness to reveal  your primal intent.
 Open the door, 
 loosen that hatch,
 what’s in store? 
 Your plot was intentional. 
 © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved. 

 Image by Wolfgang Eckert from Pixabay 

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