time

Things taken for granted
each day
leave unphased,
you soak in them,
unnoticed and soon forgotten;
seldom remembered,
if ever.

But the moments of
sorrow and despair,
when you felt something
within your fragile mechanisms stop
and the wheels,
the bridges,
the ticking mechanisms,
bevels,
stems,
mainstays
and jewels
sift through your hands...

No longer a time piece
but a piece of time
that altered you

you will never be the same
again.

Broken.

Unable to be reassembled.

When I feel those moments
I like to pretend I'm an orphan,
my memory is a train-
I can see it getting smaller
as it pulls away.

But the things
I can't remember
tell
the things I can't forget.

That kind of history
puts a saint
in every dream.