the clock

your grandmother
loved
her broken clock.
it stood
like a soldier
squared
in the foyer
silently
keeping time
at bay.
the numbers
were letters
the face
yellowed
with age,
the weight
behind the glass
was still.
but the bird
was out
of it's little
window
sitting on
it's perch,
quiet now.
but you remember
as child
how it had
so much to say.