There wasn't supposed to be a clock shop there.

Deep inside the lane and away from the bustle
the door quietly opened to the world of time.

World of Time, yes, that was the name of the shop
though it resembled more a curio shop
with the man at the counter as antique
as the time long flown away.

I want a clock to gift to somebody,
said I, amid the chiming and ticking
that if listened to for long, I was sure
would lull even the alert into sleep.

Thanks for stepping in, said the man,
with a hint of smile passing across his face,
nobody cares for time anymore, it's banished,
but for the connoisseurs still enchanted by
the melodious rhyme of swinging pendulum,
a midnight music, half listened in dream.

There's the clock chiming hourly music,
the man pointed, big but worth having,
obviously a misfit in the shrinking space,
but I say, don't compress all into small,
like say, he smiled, love and heart.

He set the music on
and slowly everything melted
from before my eyes...

I was carried home from the pavement
and some days later I returned.

World of Time, an old man recollected,
was wound up long time back.