Watch

About an object not a biscuit

In my hand that which encased me

With a romance of rural starlight

Shining through others sometime eyes

         And returns of lost nostalgia

 

         A click and the chapter is revealed

         The second hand of time present

         This cold metal moves memory

         Toing and froing and on and

 

Shoot days were dad’s omphalos

The excited dogs and special clothes

The whistled orders and flapping pheasants

The respect of subservience to discreet tips

 

The secreted in time is here

In my hand this working time piece

Foretelling the osmotic now

As my spirals constantly unwind

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i think we are all time pieces....some of us much older but we keep on ticking...and remembering many of those ticks and what happened when and with whom.
excellent allegory presented here...
and "oh My" to the last line....
j.

[Michael Oliver]

Thank you for your kind review Jacob. This about a watch I brought my dad for shoot days - an esoteric old English country pursuit. Very formal very aristocratic when dad was young. I had put this watch aside for many years after dad died and a few weeks ago got a new battery for it and it began again. It is my bit of Proust my madeleine if you like.