I give my lady a gift
And she gave me one too:
Watches.
We wore them on our wrists
Like a bond
An unremitting memoir
Of our precious moments
Hearing the ticks
(and they tick an exciting thud)
Felt like every heart beat
And every solo performance
Of the moon.
But the ticks paled
And our glances dwindled
That they became less special
We still give it a wink
Habitually
To tell time
Time to get up
Go to work
Time for break
For lunch
Time to go home
Have dinner
And time to go to sleep
When the time comes
That the watches
Weaken
We will be a little anxious
Try to shake it
And blame the cold weather
Then we would care less
Until we don’t wear
The watches anymore

Read More Poems

• Overconfidence of Flies
• An Epitaph
• Why is One Not a Prime Number?
• Last Breath
• Backwards
• If Time Would Stop at 6:15 PM
• He Listened
• I Should be a Poet
• Links: Click at Your Own Risk
• More Dangerous than Melamine
• Uniqueness is an Impossibility
• Turning Words Into Something Useful