The clock before me oscillates to and fro
sullen and sober it is indeed
the movement is in perfect flow
right and left it goes in a lead
the clock performs with the perfection
at one point it loses its exactness
at times gains minutes infractions
at other loses hours in tardiness
a winding at the least corrects its run
or a repair at the most sets it right
lest it climbs into the attic be no fun
as one of the old unused ones out of sight
sure, it might one-day jump from above
and surface with a demand unknown
as antiques command great value in glow
this one a fifty years from now
would fetch a fortune to my 
children
who would think of me for a moment
when they count the dollars in earnest.
Meenas Poems 