The Sentinel Against The Wall

The Sentinel Against The Wall

(with love to my best friend)
See You In Heaven Dad!

While sitting in my favorite chair, contemplating forty winks,
I laced my fingers ‘hind my head and like always came to think…
But what’s that disturbing noise I hear? Can you hear it? Please agree!
Can't you hear that blasted ticking that’s invading my privacy?

Like each and every time before, I bounded from my chair,
To silence that annoying ticking, if I could just find where,
And as usual, the ticking drew me down the darkened hall,
To where the grandfather clock sits, like a sentinel against the wall.

I wondered why I hadn’t thrown the dusty old thing away,
The paint is chipped and peeling and the rest is near decay,
The face is wrinkled and hard to read, the glass has numerous cracks,
The legs are weak and bowing with years of scratches and hacks.

I looked at my new Timex, to check the old clock's pace,
And I found it necessary to adjust the old man’s face,
After a couple of hasty turns, placing the key back on its link,
I returned to the comfort of my Lazyboy to catch those forty winks!

Ignoring that blasted ticking, my thoughts became quite deep,
And although I remember clearly, I fell quite fast asleep,
I saw myself lying breathless as people stopped and stared,
I couldn’t move to shake their hands as the funeral music blared.

The organ stopped its mournful moans as people sat and cried,
Friends and family were sobbing as though someone close had died.
About this time I realized that all this serenity,
Was over the loss of a loved one; but how could he be me?

After the service I was laid to rest, but part of me had stayed,
To see what kind of impression on my loved ones I had made,
The very next day my family came for tea and morbid talk,
Of who was to get what of mine and what about that clock?

My loved ones left as quick they came after the reading of the will,
Some had travelled many miles to ensure they got their fill,
I didn’t mind seeing my favourite things being carried down the walk,
But it really hurt to see my son load up the grandfather clock.

I remembered the day my father died and left me that beat up clock,
And how I’d hoped for his rifle or his wine and pickling crock,
I felt ashamed of what had passed and knew I would trade it all,
For one more chance to touch the face of the sentinel against the wall.

About this time my arm collapsed from holding up my head,
And following the blow my chin received, I knew I wasn’t dead!
As my senses began to sharpen, I could hear that old tick-tock,
And I ran down the darkened hallway to confront that beautiful clock!

I held the clock in my trembling arms and kissed his time worn face,
I asked for his forgiveness for the years of his disgrace,
I chatted with him for an hour or so and just as I was done,
I could have sworn I heard him say, ”Thanks for the thought my son”.