The Watch Poem by Peter E

I watch the living with eyes long lost
Not hearing nor feeling but the rustle of winding-cloths
Small, the box is placed on the dirt
I watch as they too are cast into the earth

Gone is the freedom I once knew, bound by the cloth of the fallen
Neatly the stone knots are bound to hold me tight
In case I try to shift my gaze ever so slight
Face showing the false expression as was set by my creator

I watch as the stone carver adds another to the Watch
Carving the face all the same, as if in rest
Abandoning another to the vigilant sleep we endure
Never to move

The brass bell tolls, rushing those of the living world as we forever watch