Offbeat

My hands labour and creak,
I feel my rhythm stumble offbeat
Once I was a bastion of constancy
Background music to the hours’ slow toll.

What I seek to measure grants no reprieve,
It passes, unyielding, all the same.
Divine intricacies at my turning heart,
Yield to the slow, eternal fade

Yet even lagging, still I hold my place,
For those who pause, I offer gentle grace.
A broken rhythm is a rhythm still,
A witness to the hours none can kill.

Thank you for reading. Feel free to share your reflections or interpretations in the comments.