Who cares about time when I’m with you?
But when the time comes to venture out into
the world beyond our cozy nest, I
slip on your watch, the gold one, oversized
on my wrist. Solid, heavier than my own,
pleasant weight making its presence known.
Not trinket, not ornament, not bauble
but sturdy, serious, sentimental
finishing touch, adding heft to my jeans
and tee, elevating with its gilded gleam.
When we’re apart and life slips by hours,
when zones change and time’s not ours,
it’s something between cuff and anchor,
less practical clock than reminder
of what’s timeless. I pause whenever
I catch its face and think — forever.