The Old Clock Poem by Joseph D E Phillips

The old clock gongs each hour
to tell what life is left of us
to speak of what we left behind
only hours ago in shadow.

To tell what life is left of us
we look into the mirror's light
to try and make us younger there
to speak of what we left behind.

We look into the mirror's light.
I can't think of a reason why.
It will not stop the clock
to try and make us younger there.

I can't think of a reason why
we rush and worry, rush and worry,
our eyes glued to the minute hand...
It will not stop the clock.