The Old Clock

Tick tock, ticking on the wall, that old clock in grandpa's hall

Worn out hands that never stall, telling stories of when we were small

Golden nights and morning dew, silent whispers that it knew

Minutes passing, time flew, made us cherish moments true

The old clock keeps ticking away, marking life in its unique way

Through the night and break of day, guiding hearts that often stray

Leather boots and worn out jeans, recalling all our childhood dreams

Grandpa's voice in twilight beams, sowing life through silent seams

Winter chill and summer heat, memory lanes on dusty streets

Every tick, a steady beat, reminding us of love so sweet