Remembering the dead

I still remember you
 your slow descent into alcohol
 though memories have all but faded
 through the vague fogged window of my mind
 
 
Sitting there in the corner armchair
 slouched in your quiet repose
 like you were one with the weathered fabric
 shrouded in misery, always alone
 
 
Watching that old pendulum swing
 in perfect timing, like it spoke
 that ancient counter of life
 in tandem with the secret language of the clock
 
 
Drifting away on an ocean grey cloud
 of pluming cigarette smoke
 that blank faraway look in your eyes
 awaiting your next escape

 Was it from now? from reality or yourself perhaps?

 I will never forget that moment
 when the old time battered clock gave out
 and silence poured around the empty room
 when your life finally lost its chime