I see

An ancient piece

Touched all over with dust studs

And smeared through with a peculiar tint

A faded shade of youth

I hear

Its beating whisper

A tick now, a tock in close distance

A repeated chain of similar notes

A one and only song from its day of inception

I understand

Its silent message, simple yet dynamic

One of position and precision, time and season

Ever changing

This ancient piece, a messenger it is

A messenger of time

It carries with it, tales from the past

And stories for the future

I see, I hear, I understand

The Grand-father clock

Sitted so elegantly at that corner of my living room.

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