The time it tells remains true. Age does not equal Inaccuracy, But being adapted By three generations Has surely helped. When new, it ran on current That alternated And was extremely dangerous. It was converted to DC When the world (And the power grid in Boston) Required it. Always on the living room wall, Plugged in, Humming And reliable. We always knew what time it was At Nana's place. Nana has been Gone now for many years, But the clock That was called a Banjo Hangs on my wall Serving two purposes. A memorial to my Grandmother And a way to Tell the time. It does not plug into Either AC or DC Any longer. A battery powered motor was installed And it no longer hums But ticks softly Still marking minutes And the passage of hours with Accuracy And in the analog form I still find comforting. Perhaps as we age, If our power source could be updated, We could live on and Continue to meet some need In our functioning. Perhaps I am confusing People and objects. Nana's clock is apt To outlive me. I wonder what will Power it in the