Here you will find the Poem Empty Room of poet Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
The clock disserts on punctuation, syntax. The clock's voice, thin and dry, asserts, repeats. The clock insists: a lecturer demonstrating, Loudly, with finger raised, when the class has gone. But time flows through the room, light flows through the room Like someone picking flowers, like someone whistling Without a tune, like talk in front of a fire, Like a woman knitting or a child snipping at paper. Submitted by Stephen Fryer