My Mums Clock
The clock it hangs upon the wall it
was bought in nineteen sixteen,
Dad bought it for my mum, and on her
wall it’s always been
It marked the time when the Kiser
roared and my dad he went to war,
He came back a troubled man with
memories of its gore,
Whilst ticking on, it saw the birth,
of babies numbered six
Two died in childhood leaving, two
boys, two girls, the mix,
It ticked on through the Second World
War, not harmed by Manchester’s blitz
Flames rose high in the red streaked sky,
from bombs dropped by Fritz,
Our clock it marked the time, when wars
Victory did arrive
But when dad died it stopped for him,
as though it was alive,
It started after a short time, then
charted days of bliss,
As wedding bells rang for members of our
family, sealed with a loving kiss,
Sadly a daughter’s tragedy meant
changes to mums life
She became her children’s guardian,
to save them from more strife
The clock it kept on ticking through
the stages of their life
And watched each girl flee the nest, each
to became a wife,
Mum and her clock had aged a lot and
when the good Lord called,
It bade farewell, and stopped
again, with the mechanism stalled.
It still ticks on though times have
changed but now it does reside,
On her son’s wall ticking still,
charting times relentless tide.
© Ted Morgan
No comments:
Post a Comment