The smooth,
ticking glide back
and forth deceives,
lulls me to sleep.
The big brass gong,
from the clang
nestled in the works
which strikes each quarter hour.
I wake in darkness
wondering where I am
(and often who),
until at last
the chime of time
becomes background,
blends with dreams
real as any sorrow.


12 thoughts on “Grandfather

  1. Neat! I like this. I’m actually taken back in time, to the Sixties to my grandparents home…I can see and hear that clock to this day! Alas! all are gone.
    I’m touched by this piece, in a good way; and I appreciate that.

  2. Perhaps it is the most faithful friend whose presence is most subtle.

    I think this a most fitting tribute . . . an elegant metaphor so nicely done.


  3. A frisson of memory in a relative’s home, when I awakened hearing the chimes of the grandfather clock, interrupting my dream, reminding me I was there but not where I wanted to be. Well done, poignant piece, Matt!

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