Snap.
A warm glow dies and
The room is dusty dark.

Liquid specimens peer out
From their jars.
Creatures freeze mid-pounce.

This curious collection,
This unusual ark
Neatly labeled and sorted.

Cases of Marrakech brown
And panels of wavy,
Worn glass.

Fingering the new pocket watch,
A gift of brushed trinket gold,
He was their Noah.

He no longer needs to know the time.

Skeleton key left on the desk,
A hand on the comforting knob,
He locks the door behind him.


Paint chip colorsI recently entered a poetry contest, open to the entire college campus where I work. We had to choose a paint chip and use the color names in the poem. My submission won!

When I read the colors on my paint card, I immediately pictured a old-style natural history museum with bell jars and cabinets of stuffed animals. Then something about the pocket watch made me think of a retirement gift, and the man who is reluctant to leave his post looking over the creatures in the museum.

One thought on “A Gift of Time”

Say something!

HTML Snippets Powered By : XYZScripts.com