Library
Historic Minutes
Historic Minutes
1 min
233
My heirloom glowers from the living room corner.
Impervious to life, it stands guard, blind, forever watching.
Roman numerals adorn its emotionless, brass face;
its hands incapable of holding anything, only point towards the passing of time…
The grandfather clock chimes another doleful hour,
It’s mechanical heart murmurs within its oaken tower.
Built by craftsmen in a land that youth does forget,
Toiling for an Empire where the sun could never set.
