Watch Pocket

Sometimes, when sleep won't come,
I fancy I'm in my Grandfather's
Watch pocket:

Snug against his hip,
Swaying with his stride -
Curled among the folds.

I nestle low in the silk,
Watch-silver pressing
Smooth, warm on my cheek
Like a long-palmed coin,
But alive:

With flywheel whirring,
Gears snicking time -
At last, a lullaby.


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