|
They saw the clock in a Midwest store,
Though it wasn’t something they were looking for.
The clock had quite a traditional face
And was housed in a strikingly modern case—
A case intended to hang on the wall,
A case that was narrow and four feet tall.
The pendulum of brass was very long;
The clock had no chime, but only a gong.
Its juxtaposition of new and old
Cut a marvelous image to behold.
Their living room was largely bare.
Would a handsome clock make a statement there?
The cost was more than they wanted to pay,
But they bought the wall clock anyway.
Although the clock was much adored,
After years of service, it had to be stored,
For the marriage dissolved before forever,
And it wasn’t clear it would be wanted ever.
The woman died, and the husband moved,
And a blank wall needed to be improved.
From long-term storage, the clock was obtained,
But a smooth-working timepiece wasn’t regained.
An old clock mechanic did some needed repair
With new cables and bearings and assorted hardware.
Would the clock be a joy or a mere irritation,
Ticking and gonging near the husband’s workstation?
But the ticking and gonging did not annoy
And proved to be an unalloyed joy.
The clock added class to quotidian space
With its constant movement and its pretty face.
Clocks live longer than owners, I’m told;
A clock, if well cared for, will never grow old. |