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My Antique Clock

It was rustic brown and gold,

    though as fragile as can be.                                   

        It must have been a hundred years old,

            but a treasure it was to me,

 

        I could have had it sold,

             would  have fetched me lots of gold,

                 but it was filled with memories,

                    simply too precious to throw.

 

It rang every morning,

    sharply at six o'clock.

        It never kept me sleeping,

            no, definitely not!

 

        But soon my sis who was learning,

            the art of breaking,

                sat on my precious clock,

                    right through the evening!

 

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