I see it perched so neatly
on the newly dusted mantel.
Peacefully ticking
a small clock
of brass and marble.
Its Roman numerals,
A burnished gold in color,
catch the sun�s rays as they pervade the room.
It is patient
and steady
like the growing grass.
Unaltered
unfettering
but forever winding down
and down
until it stops
altogether
like the rolling green hills after first frost.