The Inner Me || Wattys 2017

The Watch

a simple leather belt not fancy

glass finest and perfect placed numbers,

an innocent and tidy watch it was indeed,

rose up at the dark through my purse.

and every night I would wait,

wait for its uncanny voice,

the strike of every hour was so defined,

like a routine when silence spoke its voice.

every ticking of this new wrist watch,

was like a tap on each bone of my spine,

pushed me into deeper sleep,

and I heard it clearer every time.

then it's tap set my room darker,

until the ghostly figures arrived,

trotting towards me with no feet maybe,

black of the blackest they paraded inside.

left me vulnerable and I felt my soul been lift,

I floated in that hollow noir with plight,

just then a face flashed with smile,

like a movie in the conscious of my mind.

and those shadows started to recede,

vanished faster than they ever came,

and in a blink I was pulled back to myself,

oh that sweet face, a miracle of a kind I frame.