In my pocket's pocket, I have a watch.

Click, click, click,

The dirty gears, spear on the quarts face of circular glass.

Childlike he whiters on like the face of babes we stare at time.

Opening the truths of eternity,

In brass, and gold,

In wheat and grass,

In brass and copper,

Forsaken as Cain of old and times of eternity’s face,

And cogs of meshing scales and cold,

Oh the face of time in our pockets.

Watch the pockets, watch the pockets, keeeeep watching the pocket watch.

Click it open like the firecrackers booming,

Curiosity and fidgeting fingers,

We wonder and wonder,

Oh Lord watch the pockets! Watch the pockets!

Watch them as they watch us as bird from the skies of heaven cut the world in continents.

Watch them as they bob and weave as the waves of water sway to voice of the moon.

The pocket watch is time in our hands.

Click, click, click.

Hands of man create the gears, turn the cogs, and stamp the metal bond.

Bound in rotation of the earth and stars and moon and sun,

Click, click, click, click!

Chains bound to body, body bound to earth, mind bound to flow.

Oh that time cannot be known yet we put it in our pockets beside.

Click, click, click

Time ticks in our hand, in our pocket, and ear.

He clasps the chain,

He winds it up,

Click, click, click,

Tick, tick, tick,

Time’s expanse in inches and increments.

© 2014 Jared "I.J" Steinberg. All Rights Reserved.

#poetry