Midnight Toll
The pendulum swings left to right
The second hand continues its journey undeterred
Tick-tock, tick-tock
The face of the Grandfather clock stares
His heart beats time, his blood flows
His eyes blink, he breaths
Inhale, exhale
His chair rocks to and fro
The face of Grandfather stares
She stands by his side with shawl wrapped tight
Trembling hands caress old brow
Murmuring reassurance from unconvinced lips
Swaying in time on this ill-fated night
Mother weeps
At the top of the stairs, in the attic she lay
Labor and contraction, knuckles turned white
In the dim light of candles, casting flickering shadows
Bleeding sheets, and tearing pain
Daughter screams in the night
The pendulum swings left to right
The minute hand lands, marking 11:59
As the second hand continues on
Tick-tock, tick-tock
The grandfather clock glared
His heart is still, his blood gone cold
His eyes fix open, and breath exhaled
The rocking of the chair has settled
The face of grandfather grows pale
She falls to her knees, her countenance is shorn
From her depths a lament howl
Echoes through hollow halls
Enshrouded in grief, her shawl is torn
Mother wails
From uppermost room, death is rent
By the piercing cry of bloody new life
Pulled from darkness into light
Nestled against swollen breast
Daughters face, a conflict of agony and elation
The second hand ticks
Grandfather clock strikes the hour
Midnight tolls, pulsing through the house
Bells ring, sounding rebounding reverberating
The first signaling the end
The twelfth announcing the beginning
Mourning and celebration
The end of night, the start of a new day
