Grandfather's Clock

idk

There was a

            Red-rimmed clock that

Owned the wall of her

Grandfather’s cozy bedroom,

Reigning over the

Prize-fish and family photos

On the old-green, mint-painted wall.

 

As a child,

She used to sit in the room

And listen to the clock

            Tick-tick-tocking commentary

With her Grandfather’s stories

Of waist-high snows and

Boiling-skin summers

And coming through

World War Two

With only one

Scabby, stretching scar.

 

And when the clock died,

She cried          And buried it in her backyard

With the goldfish from last year.

 

With no Grandmother

And no clock,

Grandfather’s room

Never

Felt

The

Same.

 

Reviews

[Dressed in Poetry]

Awwww. So sad.