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Almost a year after he died
I’m wearing my father’s watch
Automatic, Swiss, 1947
I looked it up on line
The local old fashioned jeweller
Says it’s a very nice watch
Leave it alone, don’t mess with it
Just wear it all the time
It has old fashioned ways
A turn before bed, another
In the morning and one
Just about midday
Although automatic
It needs the attention
And it goes very well
Impressing all with
Its golden shine

But sometimes when I’m tired
Stressed and rushed
To get to another meeting
It goes to sleep
Like my father did
Its hands stop moving
Bringing an unscheduled
Interval, an unexpected lateness
And an unauthorised period
Of rest and relaxation

Yet each time this happens
After the initial frustration
I apologise in a whisper
For my lack of concentration
Then laughing at its winking dial
I feel my father’s cautionary
Grip gently around my wrist.

(From the collection 'Hiding in Shadows' by David Subacchi. Cestrian Press 2012).

David SubacchiWelsh PoetryLiverpool poetryItaly




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David Subacchi

Sun 12th Jul 2015 12:53

Thank you so much Ali.


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ali bell

Sun 12th Jul 2015 04:38

Great poem- really describes how objects left behind by loved ones remain a connection with them.

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David Subacchi

Thu 9th Jul 2015 23:55

You can find more of my poetry on line including some videos simply by searching on SUBACCHI POET.

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