The Station Clock

The
Station Clock

Has seen better days

It
Sees
All Seasons

And is only occupied by the
Foulest of pigeons

And one

Brave Wilde Swallow

And
A

Reclusive Bluebird

Who use it as a
Vantage point
Like a

Sniper

 on
a
Watchtower

Who Dive

Amongst the Daffodils
Below
Like
The
Lufwaffer
on a

Crimson Dawned Air Raid

Devouring
The
Worms
that burrogh holes
on Brown wallowing Mud
Among the

Broken Bricks
Where nature has reclaimed
A
little
Territory

Then they ascend
To the Blue
Amnd the Tranquil Tower

The Monumental Watcher

Vouyeur
Overseer
Of
All of this

With a face and Hands
That informs

But deaf and DUmb

Living an Existence of Measurement

An enterty who's

Soul
Mission

IS the

Vicarious fulfillment Of
Our Efficiency