written by Abi Hunt
My grandfather’s grandfather clock hangs on our wall now,
As we found it on his
When we had to empty the space between the walls
Of his house when we found out.
But it chimes at the wrong time,
A few hours out at least, but, I forget how many.
And I’m forgetting my grandfather and his grandfather clock when it clangs again:
A loud, beckoning call.
And in response and still in shock we stop;
Unaccustomed to the new visitor on our wall
An awkward shocked pause to look up at that old face –
My father stutters “I’ve not wound it up again,
The chiming will stop
Just like on that other clock that were your mother’s grandfather’s grandfather clock
That moved in when you was little.”
I nod, but I don’t remember that clock’s chiming.
Soon we won’t remember that of my grandfather’s grandfather clock.
But for now it stays.
Demands a moment’s silence.
Lest we forget.