The bell’s knell resonates through the narrow streets,
Filling the air with a thick, steely hum,
Synchronizes with the pitter-patter of the rain.
The heavy, dry, curls in the air,
Like thick cigar smoke,
Leave wispy, harsh trials of sound,
Footsteps echo through the streets,
A desperate attempt to stomp out it’s worrisome tone.
Time flows, smoothly but surely,
Distinctly burning age into the world.
Execution and delivery crawl closer,
Fueled by the churning sea.
Life and death wait anxiously, ready to reveal themselves to the world at Father Time’s signal.
The clocks count down, slowly but surely,
Devouring them with ease.
Time stops for none.