Chronological Continuity

I sit staring at the pointers on my mantlepiece clock
I hear the monotonous ticking tock
Sixty seconds makes up a minute with accuracy, precision, not over that limit
I attempt to count sixty seconds within my head
but tho I try to mimic a minute I underestimate it instead
That definate tick that doesn’t bother me at all
but it drives my offspring up the wall

I quite like the sound of a pulsating beat
it’s my homeland happiness of my retreat 
Quietly thumping, tapping with a strum
my familiarity, my at rest humdrum 
I’m well used of that tick betwixt my mind
My timelessness timepiece that I constantly wind
With a decorative, golden, shiney key
At nine o’clock each morning religiously

My mantlepiece clock is my old faithful friend
Whom I shall rely on until my very end
To be my companion in moments of doubt
To tell me the time with it’s quartlery strikeout
When I sit in my solitude, tick tock can be heard
No music, nor chattering, not even a word
But the melodic ticktock from my homely hourglass
My chronological continuity of moments that pass