The Clock Sat Smugly On The Shelf Poem by D. L. Firestone Feinberg

The clock sat smugly on the shelf,
As if upon a throne,
Contented with uncounted wealth
Accrued through debtor-loan.

One thousand minutes from the lad
Who tried some time to keep —
Two hundred hours from the maid
Who'd stolen off to sleep —

And twenty days the afternoon
Full washed away by rain —
And thirty weeks — owed by the moon —
For daring so to wane.

Then laughed and laughed the greedy clock,
And selfish sneaked his hands,
As screaming trumpets — tick and tock —
Exclaimed his steep demands.