An Infestation Of Clocks

My father's days were ruled by the tick of clocks Punctuality was his watchword He was a genuine time piece He kept my grandfather's waistcoat watch on a chain Kept for dressy occasions He managed an omnibus service Everything by the timetable Barring a storm or war Little heartbeats tick-tocked through our house Busy busy busy never stopping All wound up by father's master keys They struck the hours and chimes on quarter hours Playing fragments of Westminster tones There was an infestation of clocks in our house A little plastic hourglass timed the boiling of eggs The only timekeeper that didn't ring the hours Each day he wound the mainsprings of his time slaves Starting with our old grandmother clock It tolled a hypnotic pendulum Accurate, reliable to the last click Just under 6 feet tall, a longcase clock All our clocks were analog, With their shiny glassy faces cased in wood Some had Roman numerals, all had moving hands Every hour of work or rest was monitored The music room held a carriage clock, And a metronome that ticked off different rhythms Alarm bells started to ring When one morning my dad didn't rise Life hit an all time low And wouldn't you know it All of the clocks stopped working