Saturday, March 20, 2010

The Clock within the Spire 2002

I have seen the crown once more,

Their secret no longer kept,

More lost history,
Created by the greedy,
Its neglect hidden in their back lot of rebuff,

My respect moves me to reflect,

I, amongst many others,
Worked around that proximity,
Took retreat in the cool shade below,

I recall the clock within the spire,
Its movements of precision,
And lovely tune in a song of chimes,
Even travelled across the waters to my sanctuary,

In those days its beautiful erect tower,
A body adorned in fragrant red cedar and inspiration,

One could feel the hot sun hurry us about,
Our break would hold us firmly to the tranquillity of this square,
Some could feel the attraction for this unique clock,
And my fondness for this artifact of my past,

Became a faded dream,
Only revived by this watercolour vision.

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