April 30, 2008

All the While

The silver lines show

on the cracked mother of pearl face

at their quarterly intervals.

The white gold band

turns the pale wrist a faint pink.

Slow hands move

with precision,

to wile away the time.

These hands have seen

their years go by.

He of all people,

the one who gave it,

should know the story

behind this mechanism.

But he doesn’t recognize

the gleaming face staring back at him.

He doesn’t see

the hands at their work,

diligently giving and taking

the time that passes. Despite

their invisibility to him,

they continue to toil, momentarily resting

until motivated to stir again.

He looks through

the eyes intently looking back at him,

through the face of the person

he should identify. Blind

to the way they change colors

with the season, the gentle glint

hidden behind the sly smile, the eagerness

to be a part of the world.

All veiled by those soft eyes,

on that soft face,

that he doesn’t see.

He has lost his chance

for a second look.

While crossing into Illinois,

we gain an hour

making the drive seem shorter.

The gentle face is covered, hidden

from the world for a moment

of a lifetime. But

when called upon to do its service

for another, the weary face will shine.

The unrelenting hands will perform their show,

until their time runs out.

Sara Belger

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