A/N: An ongoing project of mine that I'd dusted off. Last Christmas special we were given a beautiful stanza from the poem "Thoughts on a Clock" by the fictitious Mr. Eric Ritchie Junior. I thought that that stanza needed to be expanded upon, and thus this poem was born. Hopefully it does Mr Ritchie's stanza justice. Enjoy!

Thoughts on a Clock (cont…)

A clock on a wall does start at one,

So shiny bright and new.

That it hardly thinks its job is done,

Until it's striking two.

.

So still it goes along to tock,

All the way through tea.

You work so hard you little clock,

And soon you're striking three.

.

The sun hangs hazy in the sky,

Like all the hours before.

And all the birds take off to fly,

When you start striking four.

.

Five, six and seven, all in a row,

With a whirlwind of change in your pockets.

And though you try to make the merriment flow,

Night is coming with no way to stop it.

.

Eight you're an hour for all to greet,

With good times and good will to spare.

And an end so slightly bittersweet,

It lingers long into the night air.

.

Nine you take that bitter taste,

And wrap it in blustery cold.

As northern winds lay the day to waste,

A new series of actions unfold.

.

Ten you're an hour with much to say,

With adventure and grandeur in store.

But in the end you silently slip away,

And let another take up the floor.

.

Eleven you are a quirky creature,

Who so near to the close may pretend.

But despite your many defining a feature,

Like the others your hour must end.

.

Now as you dawn upon that close,

You must drop your youthful charade.

For this is as far as your story goes,

And your age is the price you have paid.

.

And now it's time for one last bow,

Like all your other selves.

Eleven's hour is over now,

The clock is striking twelve's.

.

Your chimes they ring across the halls,

The loudest and the last.

They ring to sing your funeral song,

And mourn your faces past.

.

But the clock smith, he has one last trick,

To reset your frozen hearts.

Sparks of gold wind your gears for that first tick,

And the cycle now restarts.