The Mocking Clock

Oh, that dark night, while I thought and hoped for light.
For the candle was dim, and my soul all the dimmer.
As my broken heart, once whole, beat slowly on and on,
I heard the tick of a clock thought long dead.
The clock had died, the day he lie, down for the final rest.
Yet the clock ticked on and on it did, in a mocking tone of dread.
The ticking matched the slow beating of this broken heart of mine.
It made me think back in time.
Oh, the dreams we have I would say, and in whisper he would respond,
Listen to the clock he would say, the time is ours, those dreams will carry on.
With every tick, and every tock, the clock would mock.
The time is ours, the time is ours, well time is gone today.
As the clock stopped ticking once again, I sighed my last.
Our time has started once again.

Claire Kuda