Read Poems by
by Edmund Siejka
Of all the watches at the mall
It’s the old watches I like best
Antiques hidden in the back
Away from the brash newcomers
Rolex and Tag Heuer.
When I was a kid I watched grownups
On early mornings
Carefully turn the watch’s small button
Winding up its tiny moving springs
Bringing the watch back to life.
In those days there were no quartz parts
The old watches
Were marvels of human ingenuity
And old fashioned craftsmanship
Encased in brass
Tiny springs and miniature wheels
Moving together in synchronized harmony.
My old watch still works
Moving effortlessly 360 degrees
Past the 12
Down to the lowly 6
Marveling at its resiliency
That this thing,
This very old watch
Handed down to me a long, long time ago
Still keeps time.
Every so often I bring the watch
Back to the jeweler
Holding the old timepiece in his hand
He would solemnly say
“They don’t make watches like these anymore
The young prefer I-phones
To tell time
That’s technology for you.”
More and more of the old timepieces
Are lost or forgotten
In bedrooms where Grandparents
Kept family documents
In dark dresser drawers
And faded photos
Graced night tables.
Where are the old watches now?
Why just this morning
A practiced hand
Was needed to tenderly turn a watch’s small button
And gently nudge the old timepiece back to life.