• Beautiful, interesting,
    Seemingly precious,
    She holds not a portrait
    of a former beau
    Nor a faded memory,
    Just the time.
    Seven and a quarter,
    slimmest hand just past three.
    There's a charm to her flaws,
    however many.
    The way she opens so easily,
    her clasp broken
    by past traumas
    in rough, callous hands.
    Her beauty and elegance
    by years of neglect spent waiting
    for a gentle touch.
    For a rightful owner,
    near whose heart she may lay
    warm and protected
    Appreciated, at long last