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The Hands of Time
Tick, tick, tick, tick
With a steady rhythm it goes
Carved, designed and beautifully so
Twirled and twisted down to the tip
It flys to each number with an elegant dip
On a backdrop of blue that sparkled like the sea
Laid a golden sun that glittered and gleamed
And around its old face the last hand did go
Yet the others stayed in place and moved no more
And as I saw this shell, thus husk of old glory
Tears pricked my eyes as I remembered its story
The day that broke down and dies
When it turned into a skeleton inside
And like a butterfly alights from a flower
My mind flew from thoughts so dower
For as I gazed up at the old grandfather clock
I remembered how once it had a grand old tock
Even though damaged it may be
Still it sits by us like family
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