Poetry

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Hello Mister Clock;you have two eyes,and two hands as well,the numbers on you're dial they          s
dial they speak,and not sleep;they can chime from one till twelve is gone,
you're pendelum goes tick,and tock;but then you are a wound up clock,
have left sleep for a time to keep;you're silence is bound up in time,and your
works will need a clean from grime,where time can't go no clock can know;
we poor mortal's can only guess,GOD,Himself can say more;until HE,can
make it less,hello timeness,at what address.
Joe.
    d

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