The Clock Poem by Ghazala Lari

The Clock

In a quiet corner of the room, stood the wall clock

With a swinging pendulum, but no cuckoo to talk

It ticked and it tocked, a relentless sound

Not of birdsong, but of time's unyielding bound

The pendulum swung, striking the box with might

A rhythmic reminder of day turning into night

Its message clear, time slipping away

Urging us to hasten, to seize the day

During study hours, its pace would slow

Only to quicken when playtime would show

A game it seemed to play, a sly jest

Teasing us to work, to give our best

In childhood's innocence, carefree and pure

No need to rush, no need to endure

No race against the clock, no need to flee

Just living in the moment, wild and free

But one day, the clock met its end

No amount of fixing could it mend

Its pendulum stilled, its voice hushed

A battle lost, a legacy crushed

Oh, how I missed that swinging beat

The noise that broke the silence neat

A melody of time, a rhythm so sweet

A childhood echo, a memory to greet

A new clock took its place, silent and still

Telling time only at our will

No pendulum swinging, no noise to hear

Just a silent observer, a timekeeper near

And so the days passed, measured and unseen

By a clock that hung, impartial and keen

Timing our lives, ticking away

A silent witness, to night and day.

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