It is time to See You Again, Leather Circle of Time Named Watch

What a docile colonel!
in your black and gold uniform
to ever keep order despite your whole being
being a servant to our whims
like the angelic nimbus of Helios
after bright wing of Eos rests
and the circle, golden, travels again.
You will change as we please,
but your dark, feathery silence tells us
of what we must do by Kronos’s cruel word –
a boundary, creating clockwork civilians
from the stiff people.
Your long, golden arms, lacking symmetry,
only ever go twelve places
and the order remains stone-set.
Though you found yourself forged
by gift of Prometheus,
your mischief is a concept your black gears beneath your misty glass face
know nothing of.