Time Stopped

This old clock sits, a soldier in dust,

its hands frozen at 2:17, a life to rust.

Dust motes hang like secrets, caught in the sun,

a stillness that whispers, a clock never run.

Time ticks in the walls, a heart beating slow,

a reminder of moments we wish we could know.

Each second a ghost, a shadow of choice,

now echoes through silence, no longer a voice.