tick to-

The clocked never ticked as loudly as it did on the day you left. As if the clock was also bereft.

As if my rhymes and its chimes were the only things that could move us past the tragedy of losing a member of the household. As if the clock, also had a story that needed to be told.

It ticked out of sync with the rest of the clocks, like the pendulum was suffering a severe state of shock and time, suddenly wasn't important. 

As I waved goodbye to the poetry I thought was my calling, the clock waved goodbye, and time started falling. We both developed some mechanical faults in the absence of you.