The ticking Clock...

Tick, tock ,tring, tring...

The round clock on the sand,

pointing the number twelve...

with both of its metallic hands.

The land is covered in dark,

under the canopy of night sky.

All men, retired to home...

under soft blankets, they all lie.

Time is turning in its own giant wheel,

infants grow old and injuries are slowly healed.

But the clock remains half burried,

under the yellow dusty sand.

Unnoticed, unwanted and...

without being touched by any human hands.

The clock continues ticking

just for the sake of it...

without stopping once, without any rest...

without even knowing, what really it is.

Suddenly, one day, it feels a touch...

on its round metal head.

So soft, so lovely...

so full of new colourful shades.

The clock finds a little human face,

glowing with suppressed glee.

She has lifted the clock up

and runs towards a nearby tree.

"Papa I've found a ticking clock" she screamed...

"Now we can celebrate the exact time,

                      when new year comes in!!!"

The clock feels good

and feeling an entire new joy...

realising that it's a giver after all...

not just a mere junky toy.

It'll now tick & chime happily,

                                     as it has found its final destination...
It'll give her the joy,

                 as she'll take part in the new year celebration!!!