Clock Watching Poem by keith brown

Clock watching

It seems to me a mute debate,
running early or running late.
Out in the sun or dodging showers
That twenty four: is some how better than,
Twelfth by Twelfths hours

When called to dinner, to a table of plenty
Will calling it eight, make it taste better than twenty
Or
Going to bed at eleven, which seems late to me
Will I sleep any better if I called it twenty three!

Breakfast of course is far more sane,
No matter seven or eight they all mean the same.

Don't get me started about day light saving
I could spend the next twenty-four hours just raving.
About the hour I lost last season.
Why do that change? There must be a reason!

Should we set our watches to the phase of the moon?
To be certain we all turn up at the same place at noon,
Or maybe
Meet under the market clock once more, because
I'm certain it's face doesn't say
Twenty four!