Mother Time, Father Rhyme

In the centre was a shadow

Cast in doubtful maddow

Captured by the tick of the clock

In a box under key and lock

Mother Time there she stood

In the middle of the wood

Dark as night and grey as day

There was no calm in her sway

For she was bound by Father Rhyme

Who locked her up in chaos and dime

A truth she was never to unravel

For he buried her under piles of gravel

After tying her up to a pyre

On high with golden fire

Silver tongues and copper wire

Singing his truth while spinning lies

So her true song quietly dies

The ticking tock of the quartz rock

Making no more sense than a holey sock

But Mother Time is just around the bend

As her children’s heart strings begin to mend

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