Death Watch

I knew he was dead

the frantic call, some

twenty minutes before

I started my journey

planted that seed, which

grew, fertile in thought soup,

I had not stared death full

in the face before

so, I weighed the likelihood

of my novice reaction

as the landscape scrolled

by unnoticed,

he looked peaceful 

unsmiling, not serene

but somehow, relieved

and at the same time

embarrassed at the fuss 

he was causing

by his sudden departure,

I didn’t kiss him at first, I

merely slid my hands under 

the sheet searching to cup his hand,

then something strange,

my finger stroked his wristwatch

still working, still pulsing

unaware of its new obsolescence,

time gently keeping time

for no-one.

*

© Graham R Sherwood 02/22