Defying age, defying time,
the hands on the clock are stuck on nine,
the time the earthquake hit,
and of the house the earthquake it devastated every bit,
and now the clock it lies amongst the rubble,
where the only thing that has time for it, is a mouse,
after the humans fled, in a frightening time,
that destroyed the house,
leaving memories and photographs captured in time,
and countless empty bottles of wine,
and time here it stands still,
and the mouse it makes its home,
where the humans used to roam,
and silence is golden,
after the civilisation has fallen,
and nature retakes its crown and throne.
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