I do not wear a watch anymore.
My wrist is bare. My eyes are sore
From having to search out the time.
I do not care what time it is.
I co not care what I will miss.
For there’s no reason or no rhyme
That I should spend all my days
Allowing a clock to mend my ways
And take my freedom from me.
When I was working all I knew
Was checking the time in all I’d do.
And I lived like that for too long.
So when I retired I understood
That knowing the time is only good
When something important looms.
It’s then I check the clock on the wall.
It’s then I watch the hands just fall.
And I remember how time resumes.
But as for my watch I let it lie
On my dresser and pass it by
And my wrist is happy and free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem