timepiece

stretching wearily
to get the stiffness
out of your back
  after a long night
  at the factory,
     you dump the detritus
     of your pockets
     on the polished dresser:

coins picked up off the floor
  as you walked around
  checking that all the doors
      were shut tight;
the master key
  to all the offices
  in the executive suite;
the pocket lint
  that has accumulated
  since the last time
     the uniform was in the
        wash.

you take the heirloom
out of your pocket,
  opening it up
  to look (for the umpteenth
     time during the day)
        at the picture
        of Spirit pasted
        on the inside of
           the cover;

after polishing
the crystal with your
blue bandanna,
  you turn it over, gently
  rubbing your fingers over
     the inscription
        'for Dad - love XP'
and putting in the key
you wind it, as you
have done every day
since

climbing into bed
and pulling the covers
up over you,
  you whisper to yourself,
'i wonder what would
  happen
if i ever forgot to wind
       that old thing?'

(c)  2010  Thom M. Shuman