THE CLOCK ON THE SHELF

by Joyce Riley

When the clock struck the floor parts flew everywhere, springs over here, hands over there, its face on the floor with a broken clock stare.

“Why did you do that?” Raggety Ann cried.

“It was the monkey,” Andy replied.

Monkey let his small symbols clang.

“It was the cat,” Canary bird sang, while, in the corner, a cat with soft fur closed its bright eyes and began, softly, to purr.
“Oh, my,” said a child as it walked through the door,“How will I wake without a clock any more?”

Then, picking up springs, two hands and a face, the child did its best to put them in place. But, there was no tick. The hands wouldn’t stir. And, the cat on the shelf continued to purr. The child looked around, then, with a nod of the head, Invited the cat to sleep on the bed.
Now, every morning, when it’s time to get stirring, the child wakes up to a cat’s gentle purring. And, high on the shelf, where it has a good view, the clock’s hands are stuck on a quarter to two. But, it doesn’t mind what the other toys say. Clock knows that it’s right twice every day.