Clock Tower

A bright, blue sky and vast grounds,
Though there is a little shop.
There are not too many sounds
And not even a gallop,
But there are groups of roses
Amidst all the green grasses.
There's also a huge garden
Where all the plants are even.

All those glowing, golden lights
On tables in the library
During the deep, dark blue nights
With each shadow of a tree.
Then on a sunny morning,
There are gentle rays shining,
Brightening the museum
And its spacious, high-ceilinged room.

In the glow of ivory,
Listen to words and see
The friends and the family.

Sculpted in stone forever,
The statue sits on a chair
After the sun moved over
On a flight, stair upon stair,
Through tall, wide arcs and stained glass,
Over Tesla coils and brass,
The day retreats and retires
To rekindle like a fire.