Timekeeper Each day, the merged hands of noon pause in prayer as arthritic joints fumble with this flippin’ clasp. Each day, the windup watch slips from her wrist, is passed from saggy armchair to highback rocker. He sits too straight at an orthopaedic angle that no longer holds the soft shape of him nor echoes hers in the severed twin, lacking the just-right lean of an armrest pocked with fag burn marks we'd fish foam confetti from as kids. Finding the back-and-forth groove, the pad-to-pad roll of thumb to finger, a delicacy performed ’til the spring coil hiccups back to its little lifetime again. And this is how it was between them, each day a day long and forever a day young.
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Treasa, this is such a wonderful poem. So tender and beautiful. And the ending is just amazing. If this were gymnastics I'd say you stuck the landing.
"And this is how it was between them,
each day a day long and forever a day young."
I like what this poem tells me of the grandparents. There is beauty and tenderness in all of this that I hope each reader sees it. I did completely. Good read!