Old Mothers Clock.

Tick tock, tick tock

the constant drum of

old mothers clock,

as morning dawns

and my sleep stops.

A yawn and a stretch,

then my old tattered frock,

A hop and a jump

and one blue sock.

There’s a tap, in the dark

then a hammer and a knock,

as I creep down the stairs,

praying it will stop.

My ears are drumming,

I fear they will pop.

I wonder for a moment,

if it’s finally a cop.

Good Morning mam,

my names Rob,

I look and stare

give a little nod.

At the kitchen door,

is the blood stained mop.

Been a call,

mutters old cop, Rob.

I half expected an angry mob,

a little concerned,

about the neighbours dog.

Dog? I laugh,

that beasts a sod.

I breath and sigh,

he don’t know about the bod.

He looks, he winks, he bids farewell,

I close the door and nudge the lock.

The house is dark,  the blood still drips,

tick tock, tick tock,

as the life drips down from

old mothers clock.

Published by

blossom666

Welcome to my blog! Here you will find different forms of creative writing, lots of swearing, erotic poetry, random thoughts, beautiful imagery, but most of all you will find a version of truth. My truth, this is the way that I see the world. However, all of my work is a form of creative writing, a combination of truth and fiction. I write to express my creativity, not my needs!

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