Poem by Charlotte Ray
A watchmaker has a broken watch.
He tries to repair it to no avail
As no matter how much time he may take,
The once ever ticking clock,
Will never be the same.
The face that set life at steady pace
The promise of devotion
Proved to be only temporary
But now that promise is broken
What's left is aerie.
The man is still co-dependent
On an item that shattered when he was losing face.
He is left in a room that was once loud
Has become a quiet place.
Borrowing mismatched parts,
Similar in size and shape;
His attempts are futile and in vain.
For each cog was unique
He can't fix what's broken,
Not when he's lost what can't be replaced.
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