My Mother’s Watch

Whispering golden ticks from when he gave to her
his future and the Time of Them began
Watching their youth, their love, them
Today she sad-smiles slowly and the glistening missing-hims spill
from her remembering eyes – dancing while the grainy reel of
Their Ago plays softly for only her
A gentle face with tiny lines; the piece reflects her
Half a heart of her remains
but she loved with two when They were Now
The moments gone as two together.
Lonely time.