A great watch, once a faithful guide,
But time itself it cast aside.
Months blurred to weeks, then winter cold,
Before its fate I tried to mold.
To the quiet shop, I bore my plea,
"Can you please fix this right for me?"
The watchman murmured, slow and low,
"I am trying," he let me know.
"Excellent!" I pushed, a hopeful sigh,
"Then please, I beg you, harder try!"
Three moon cycles waned and grew,
Back to his counter, I withdrew.
"My watch?" I asked, with rising dread.
"I'm having a hard time," he said.
"You must have patience," was his claim,
My patience bled into a flame.
"Patience?" I cried, my voice was strained,
"How hard can common gears be gained?"
He called it 'complex,' a weary plea,
I sensed he toyed with me.
He lured me in, a cruel design,
To make me wait, to cross the line.
Each week, each month, his simple game,
My rising anger, fueled by shame.
Enough! I thought, no more this strife,
No more this draining, fruitless life.
"Keep it," I said, a bitter phrase,
And walked away from those lost days.
When all control begins to cease,
And people's games deny all peace,
You sometimes break, and breathe, "You win," it's true,
A bitter peace, to start anew.
I yearned for that watch, my time untold,
But knew its grasp I'd never hold.
So I'll do without it, truly free,
And rise above this mockery.
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Author:
Friendship (
Online) - Published: July 16th, 2025 07:05
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Online)
Comments1
Frustration comes to mind in this poem of promises not kept. There seems a hidden motive in the watchmakers delay. A pity to loose the watch. I would have taken it back. A sad write of dreams unmet.
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