(Hopefully) 1 Poem a week for 52 weeks |
| The Door of the Clockwork King Polished brass and copper pipe well oiled gears and ratchets ticking, clicking, steam is hissing gauges, springs, a flywheel spins a pressure plate proclaims your presence at the door of the Clockwork King No need to knock, the door swings open precisely balanced silent on some hidden rail precision engineered to a niceness exact in specification and execution tooled and perfect as befits the door of the Clockwork King Cogniscient of your present purpose the King waits patiently within the pendulum of his heart is slowing Present the King's key then push it home Turn and wind, renew his vigour Then close the door of the Clockwork King |