"HANDS OF TIME"
I keep upon my mantelshelf an old grandfather's clock;
reminds me daily of its wealth
with every tick and tock.
Given to me by my dear Dad
the day before he died;
most priceless thing I ever had,
in which I take most pride.
My Daddy loved that antique clock
he found in early life;
by trading off a wooden crock
and one dull carving knife.
And proud he was about that deal
he often spoke with pride;
how he made a bargain steal
with smile he could not hide.
And from my youth come thoughts of when:
each night at our bed time....
Dad would wind the hands at ten,
and bell that rang the chime.
And now I've come to understand
the symbol in his mind;
for Dad, like any other man
was keeping track -his time.
This same old clock that passed his time,
is passing mine away;
this same old tick, tock, and chime
will come my children's way.
And if he or she will come to see
the meaning of it's worth;
their measurement of time will be
their joy while here on earth.
For more than just a clock I see;
it shows me everyday,
my most treasured memory-
of Dad, who's long away!
William E. Hardison
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