Father Time Poem by Kevin Cox

Father Time

I hearken to a
distant bell.
Far off across
The verdant nell.
The bell's clear song
Rang true to tone
The time it kept
A metronome.
Each pleasant hour
Of each day.
And the half
Of it did bray.
Who keeps the book
That tells of when
The bell should strike
And strike again.
Each hour is ushered
On its way.
Each passing hour
Of passing day.
It must of some
Importance be
To regulate
With such a key.
Where do the empty
Hours go
When they've been struck
Down here below.
And soon will come
More than we know
The hour last
Of our life's flow.
What shall we say
When that hour strikes
Will we resist
With sword and pikes.
Or shall we pass
From Time's strong hand
Into the mist
Of Other Lands.