In the quiet ticking of the ancient clock,
Whispers of time weave stories untold.
Each second a step in the silent dance,
As hours gather memories of old.

Hands move in circles, a perpetual waltz,
Marking moments that swiftly pass by.
Yet in their rhythm lies a gentle solace,
A reminder of days beneath the sky.

Faces of clocks with eyes of wisdom,
Watch over dreams both lost and found.
Each chime echoes through the chambers,
A melody of time’s eternal sound.

In the realm where time stands still,
Clocks hold secrets in their embrace.
Guardians of the fleeting moments,
In their dance, eternity they trace.