A watch
turns its hands
in mourning
for one circle then
another and,
until it grinds itself
to disuse,
it lives on.
The watch
keeps on
lookout, stern
and stoic; not
betraying an emotion
to make sure he mourns
no one else
that night and all
nights to come.
Those who watch
unmoving
mourns themselves
their reflection
on the glass.
Day Five Prompt: writing [a] poem about how a pair or trio very different things would perceive of a blessing or, alternatively, how these very different things would think of something else (luck, grief, happiness, etc).
Missed Day Four, but will try to do what I can. I’d like to force myself to write but it seems counterproductive because it just leads to poetry being a responsibility than an outlet. I can’t keep pushing myself down thinking I have to do more; just need to keep pushing forward and make the steps that I can take.
Flipped Serendipity 