The clock in the kitchen with metronomic grace
Beats out the day's time while hiding its face
It seems a bit embarrassed as if out of place
Why does it bother at all to be so boring....
Pungent odors waft slowly from room to room
Except for creaking noises all quiet as a tomb
The old couple discusses whether it's besom or broom
That goes through its paces over the flooring....
Age has advantages such as sitting quietly alone
Thinking about the children who all now are gone
While ignoring the ringing of the telephone
Enjoying the motions of the antique rocking chair....
Solitude is a blessing very seldom enjoyed
Ignoring the outside world is so seldom employed
Where street jarring noises have so often annoyed
The quietude of an afternoon's napping affair....
The clock ticking seconds, minutes, hours and years
Trying to keep pace with the backyard chanticleers
The old folks are content, never resorting to tears
Their future is certain....and they are prepared....