In the quiet room where shadows play,
The clock whispers secrets of the day,
Each tick a story, each tock a dream,
Unraveling time in a gentle stream.

Faces of past and future align,
As the hands dance in rhythm, divine,
Moments slip by like grains of sand,
Carved in the silence by time’s own hand.

The pendulum swings with graceful ease,
Marking the passage of hidden pleas,
In the night, its voice a lullaby,
Singing of stars in the velvet sky.

Oh, clock of ages, steadfast and true,
Keeper of hours both old and new,
In your embrace, we find our way,
Guided by whispers of night and day.