A Hideous Clock’s Cleaning | Poem

I know a human; loved and loving,

Cleaning a watch hidden beneath ruins,

Smiling at its stopped tranquility,

Seeing a memory worth keeping.

Some born to make clocks,

Some born to love ugliness,

You wonder, don’t you?

Why clean a watch in secret!

Here, a story kept repeating,

Cleaning, reliving, believing,

In pains, the clock brought peace.

It stopped at midnight light,

And, it believes to remember,

Time passes even in darkness.

There, I learnt a memory,

She came longing for my soul,

And, left with undead emptiness,

Only she knows,

How to smile at it, my dearest.



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