Facedown Clock

The clock of his life had a slow tick

And a large surprised white face,

Which was seldom seen,

Since it went better

Face downward.

It went on its back, too.

With a nervous tock,

But very briefly standing up.

I don't know why,

Clockwork is a mystery to me,

but standing on its feet

It would not go.

Its hours were numbered.

Seconds trotted busily around.

The alarm on twelve,

Never moved its metal tongue.

But on its face or on its back

The old clock went on ticking,

When he wound it as he did

From time to time.

©Terry Hodgson2020