A Quater 'Til Midnight

A maker of clocks shares a secret

That only a few can know

For he alone decides your fate

With a clock that steals your soul

This village of twenty thousand

Gets smaller everyday

For when the clock strikes midnight

Another will pass away

A deal was made with the devil himself

For a clock that was made of gold

And all who dared to live there

Would simply never grow old

The clock maker was the oldest

That the village had ever known

The people would pay for the clock maker's sins

With their souls they must atone

The devil had promised a soul for a soul

So the clock maker is two hundred and eight

But the rest of the village don't live to see forty

For the clock maker decides their fate

A quarter til midnight a name is drawn

From a box that's shrouded in black

The angel of death leads them away

Never to bring them back

The next time you see the clock maker

Be sure to ask him  his age

But if he smiles as the clock strikes twelve

Prepare to pay him his wage

Reviews

[Allie]

Wow, what a fantastic and original story. I love poetry that tells a story.

[H.M. Eccher]

I like this! It's well-written, it commands attention, and it flows wonderfully. Excellent work.