THE DAWNING OF TIME

THE DAWNING OF TIME

Clever writing at worst, an enigma at best
Quite obscure at first but I need to attest
That the subject of such a beautiful poem
Has still yet to reach its predestined home

Four hands it would seem would tell of the years
Of Great, Great, Great, Grandparents’ laughter and tears
But things of that age don’t exist for a start
So four hands become two pair two surnames apart

Breath without life is motion less flesh
So something mechanical would be my best guess
The bearer an honest man, loyal and true
His memories valid ‘cause they are mine too

The object was handed to him but to hold
This precious small token of silver and gold
The time has now come for the thing to come home
This thing of such energy yet cold as a stone

The honour is mine for this bearer of treasure
Is my little brother whose company I treasure
So come forth my friend and we’ll share a good scotch
And this time remember to bring Grandad’s watch