The Watch Poem by Michael Burch

The Watch



Moonlight spills
down vacant sills,
illuminates an empty bed.

Dreams lie in crates.
One hand creates
wan silver circles, left unread

by its companion—unmoved now
by anything that lies ahead.

I watch the minutes
test the limits
of ornamental movement here,

where once another
hand would hover.
Each circuit—incomplete. So dear,

so precious, so precise, the touch
of hands that wait, yet ask so much.

Friday, July 26, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: loss,time
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Published by The Lyric, Carnelian, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Poetry on Demand, Famous Poets and Poems and ImageNation (UK)
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