a friend I grew up with like a brother
they were talented...from old stock
creative and intelligent..
a clock from the seventeenth century
hand wound.painted face
long veneered cabinet
enamel scenes that rotated showing
scenes too the hours ...would tick
and chime.....
I think of how many families it worked
for.....its bell singing and the gong
working....spelling off time
an excellent poem to the observations
and witness to this machine
and our mortality of flesh!

thank U!

In the past I have lived with some loud clocks, both ticks and chimes. It's a more sedate life now. I like the way this plays out but wonder about the conclusion. Have you considered putting the times in descending order.
of an olde clock, wondering if this will be
the month
the day
the hour

I posted a comment on this poem yesterday, but it seems to have disappeared, I will paraphrase what I said: a very well-used metaphor, a profound poetic bite almost as resonant as the chimes you speak of.

longer dear Joe ,
thru Richard's
chime
don't bother abut reason nor rhyme
but just continue to
CHIME