The work is round the clock.
It goes smooth without a block.
It is lively beyond the lock.
It is diligently enrolled into a flock.
Thoughts go round and round the clock.
They gather strongly through the rock.
They never assume a deriding mock.
They oscillate stealthily in a tick tock.
They drive towards a legitimate dock.
The results show publicly round the clock.
Some signify a joyous stock.
Some also denote a sad stalk.
They propose an acceptance without a shock.
They incessantly revolve round the entire talk.
The world is governed by the clock.
Actions occur in an ad hoc.
The living is through an interlock.
Disaster creeps in when anything goes anti clock.
A facile move instills a glorious knock.
Meenas Poems 
One reply on “Round The Clock.”
The world is indeed managed by the clock for so many.