A small pocket watch, keeping time,
Held in his hand, for him to rewind.
Twice a day it said, with care,
The polished metal reflects his stare.
So twice a day, without fail,
He winds it up to hear its wail.
But the wail, it comes from deep within,
As those ever-turning cogs pull his heartstrings.
And that constant ticking, by his ear,
Never fails to produce a tear.
As the sound, it echoes through his mind,
Telling him, "Now! Now is the time."
He tries to lose it, but the chain holds fast,
Pulling him tighter, towards his past.
And still he winds it, as he was told,
With trembling fingers, through the biting cold.
The dark comes closer, with each screaming tick,
And he loses focus, begins to feel sick.
He forgets one winding, takes a moment to breathe,
And the watch is grabbed from him, thrown onto the street.
To his horror, the watch falls apart,
And the chains let go of his heavy heart.
He turns, to face the cause of his release,
But they are gone, pulled by another timepiece
For a year he searches, to find his saviour,
And for a year he fails, to repay the favour.
But at last he remembers, and returns to the spot,
Where he knew there once was a great grandfather clock.
And there he sees her, chained to her despair,
As the pendulum swings back and forth, slicing her through the air.
And in a moment of madness, he attempts to stop time,
Angry at injustice, raging inside.
The pendulum falls, and she is released from its hold,
And his tiny little watch, seems a little less bold.
Then, she runs up to him, plants a kiss on his cheek,
And tells him that she loves him, as his knees grow weak.
And hand in hand they walk away, over scattered cogs and springs,
And both, now free of time's cruel chains, spread their weary wings.