Frozen horology

Dusty laid the old wristwatch
with its static arms outstretched.
Was it embracing the final end,
or surrendering to an outset?
The glass had cracked
around 12,
and traveled down
to a faded 6.
Roman numbers,
and Swiss precision,
one halted time
no one could fix.
It had seen exciting things,
birthdays, wedding, winters, springs,
but now it sleeps,
this wristless watch,
frozen in some other time.
This tired zeit umpire
is signalling it’s over now.

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