Time's Fluid Form

In the depths of time, a clock stands tall, Melting like a dream, beyond them all. Its face, a canvas, white and serene, Roman numerals, a story unseen. The hands, like arrows, swift and true, Pointing to moments, old and new. The clock's bronze body, strong and grand, Melts away, like sand in hand. The liquid time, a river's flow, Sweeps away the past, as it grows. In this surreal landscape, we stand, Where time is fluid, and the clock's command. A reflection below, a mirrored sight, Echoes the moment, in the silent night. The clock's heartbeat, a rhythmic sound, Fades away, as the moments drown. In this artwork, we find our fate, A reminder that time is not late.