FATHER’S OLD WATCH

In the corner of a drawer, Under papers old and brown, I found my father’s watch, Its glass marked, Its hands no longer moving round. He wore it every morning, Before leaving through the gate, And I believed that little watch Could never make him late. As a child I held his wrist, Trying to hear time move, He laughed and said, “It only ticks,” But even then I knew I was hearing something Like love. Years have changed the house, New clocks hang on the wall, Yet none of them can bring That old morning call. The watch does not work now, Still I keep it safe with me, For time is not only hours— It is every face We are afraid to lose to memory. I closed the drawer slowly, But the past did not depart, The watch had stopped long ago— Not the time inside my heart.