Ode To Old Clocks Poem by David Whalen

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That old clock on the mantle
That measured the moments
Of so many mortals
Enmeshed in mere time

Now dusty and disregarded
Disdained and discarded
No longer the master
Nor server of time

One could offer that it’s
Time has passed
That it can no longer proffer
The measure of time

That it no longer dictates
A definitive number
When to rise or to slumber
Gives no longer life reason or rhyme

The clockworks have stilled
The hours no longer chime
Gears no longer mesh
Nor it’s hands tell the time

It’s an anachronism now
Lost in time somehow
Relegated, delegated, exiled,
To the trash pile of time

It sits alone, quite content with the fact
That it’s exactly right….twice a day
And that’s much, much more
Than most people can say

…at least most of the time…

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