The Clockwork Girl

by George McGinn

There was a tin lady
In a clock tower,
Who only went out
At the stroke of the hour.

With the jerk of one hand
She struck the brass bell,
And then went back in
As if under a spell.

Inside the tower
Her chores were a grind
Such as giving the clock
A regular wind.

Oh the monotony
Of living in a clock.
The deafening chimes.
The endless tick-tock.

She had had enough
Of this dull routine.
She wanted to live,
Not be a machine.

But a secret she hid
From the folk in town.
It troubled her deeply
And caused her to frown.

She held captive a boy
And felt such a fiend
But behind closed doors
He was not what he seemed.

She yearned to free him
To end his heartache
To give him the life
She wrongly did take.

She shuffled back in
Along her metal track.
But when re-emerged
She was on the attack.

From high up above
She stood tall and proud.
"I am what I am!"
She screamed at the crowd.

"Was that the wind?"
said a person below.
"Not sure." said another
"Could be a crow."

But the eyes of the crowd
Looked up at the clock.
For what they saw next
Left them in shock.

The little tin lady
She was no more.
Knocked from her place
Onto the floor.

~The End ~