Dark Honey stained cedar of the tall wise frame of the grandfather clock standing guard against my grandparents staircase. How did he become a grandfather? Where are his grandkids? Are they watches? My giant cherubim head stares up in amazement at how something could be so tall. Gently pulling open the glass door, cogs, gears, springs, the internal organs crafted by artisans. Coiled springs like mechanical snails, the hums and chimes, an enormous cathedral hides inside, church bells ringing, organs playing, melodic, welling vibrating metal, a vertical glockenspiel. Open mouthed and staring, my curious eyes trying hard to take the overload. Out from it’s exposed ribs, billows puffs of antique dust, ignited into embers by the sunlight creeping through a nearby window. I can taste the sweet of freshly cut wood, the salty copper, and feel I the dry cool of an encased are that never sees the sun.