The Pace Of Time

As the sands flow down through the glass,

Keeping pace with the hours past,

The clocks tick on the wall,

In the room and up the hall,

The bird in its house is waiting to spring,

Ready to burst out its musical ring,

As shadows sweep back and forth,

Forever staying on their own slow course,

They are cursed with the spell,

They cannot linger or dwell,

Never stopping,

Forever clocking,

Trapped in its rhyme

Until

The

End

Of

 time.