When the Watch Stopped/10:16pm

I ache alone in this room,
reflecting on your flight.
Spring is now in blissful bloom;
flowers feast on lofty light.

Reflecting on your flight,
shadows pass o’er my face.
Flowers feast on lofty light;
I swear away prayers of grace.

Shadows pass o’er my face.
Wise eyes are wet with woe.
I swear away prayers of grace,
underneath a lamplight’s glow.

Wise eyes are wet with woe.
Spring is now in blissful bloom.
Underneath a lamplight’s glow,
I ache alone in this room.

When the Watch Stopped_10-15pm_jpeg

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This is the last in a series of three pantoums that were inspired by discarded watches which I found in my apartment’s communal glass recycling bin.  I selected three from the bunch that I found to be visually interesting, and then wrote poems about what was occurring when each of the watches stopped running.