Timepieces lie shapelessly melted.
Litter everywhere tired.
Some hangs on cloth line.
Shivering rickety hands, stretched.
Different times on display.
Hoping for one reality show
Watch makers rub n scrub,
Just to breathe in life for all.
Livers changed, springs wound,
balance wheels replaced of “ grandpa”
Pendulum springs overhauled,
Winder tempered to strength.
Some escape to ticks of life again.
Some retire to display one time.
Some hangs motionless as bats.
Some donate organs to others.
As a modern painting of Dali,
Some drip down as molten mass.
We keep them in tomb, buried.
With an epithet’ here rests my time.’
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem