My father's clock outlived him - just -
A remnant from the war
With ailing cogs and movement frail
And rhythmic beat no more.

Thus, needing a memento,
To mark his passing time,
I bought an antique keepsake
Quite strikingly sublime.

My companion now for thirty years
Residing in the hall,
With varnished wood and pictured face
It stands some six feet tall.

But, though undimmed my love affair,
The clock has many quirks:
It loses time and scorns the rain,
Unruly when it works.

Despite these minute defects,
My true love there's no doubt.
The clock would always win hands down
Should ever fire break out!

I