Dutifully wound when I rise each and every day.
Staring at my watch I see the time’s ticking away.
The band now snugger as the weight begins to rise.
Its numbers memorized unseen through aging eyes.
Wear’s now apparent, shimmer gone from its case.
Distress now etched forever on a once smooth face.
Hours once familiar now simply shades of grays.
Precision now is lacking in this twilight phase.
With each wind a moment gone, a moment less to see,
this time we spend on time are moments not to be.
I know the day’s coming when the spring loses its twist.
But til then, I’m sure, today lives upon my wrist.