Time's Paradox

This clock on the wall, a ghost in the room,

its hands frozen still, a dance turned to gloom.

Caught in the dusk, as day starts to fade,

it strikes noon once more, in silence it stayed.

Dust coats the glass, a shimmer, a veil,

while shadows stretch long, a familiar tale.

Time winks through the grime, a secret it keeps,

right twice in a day, while the world around sleeps.

Fate laughs in the ticking, the rhythm of chance,

in stillness, it turns, a forgotten romance.

Yet I hold on tight, to these moments once lost,

to a clock that counts time, unbothered by cost.