Clockwork Poem by Sara Dickson

Second, blink and then it's gone,
Gone away, moving on,
Ticked by the needle slick and black
Thin and slender, bulk it lack,
Energy steady, never to yawn.

Minute, gears spin round one time,
Single file in crooked line,
Sixty seconds stroll on past,
While teeth grinding push on to last,
Strong bronze fingers sturdy yet fine.

Hour, class, come in right now,
Come in quickly, I'll show you how,
Hands they point round circle room,
Endlessly moving, never find doom,
So praise this object, before it bow.

Day, month, year, decade, centuries long,
'Tis always needed, 'tis never wrong,
Red red rust may eat at its springs,
But 'twill still be considered of wonderful things,
For if clockwork breaks, infinity's gone.