Throbbing Watch
Nelson Scoville

He awoke to the warm resounding beat on his dresser. Tick…Tick…Tick. What was it that made him desire to drag himself out of his warm tapestry, day after day? He was sick and tired, not to mention his grinding, emotional sore. Why was he still carrying that around with him? He had spent many lonely sundown's on the secluded park bench reflecting her. He was now seventy and felt no value in living. He was a lonesome man hiding from the world in his apartment. Tick…Tick. He always awoke to the vibrating tick, and made breakfast--breakfast for two. He knew the second plate would stay untouched. He always prepared eggs, bacon, sausage, a bowl of cereal, and a box of raisins, always taking extra care to make her bacon extra crispy, just how she liked it. He still longed for those early, rushed, meaningless conversations. Tick…Tick...Tick. Today was different though. He lay in bed listening to the tick of the watch. His body ached as he rolled over and stared at the timepiece. What would happen if he did stay in bed? Tick…Tick. He had been lonesome for three years. The old man reached up to his dresser, picked up the watch and felt the pulsating throb. He wrapped his fingers around the worn band then moved the watch to his cheek to feel the cool glass pane. His leathered hands felt the engravings of her name and he longed to be with her. Three long years had changed him and fueled his desire to hold her in his arms. The watch had ticked since her forty-third birthday. Tick…Tick. Shakingly, he placed the watch back on the dresser in its little spot. He had watched many hours pass as the long hand made its continuous orbit. The well-known deep beat of the watch echoed through the wooden dresser. Tick…Tick. What if he didn't get up and water the golden daisies? Tick…Tick. Looking up at the ceiling, he saw the old warped wallpaper and the watermarks gazing back at him. He pulled the bedspread up closer to his frail body and remembered all the time she had put into sewing the quilt. Tick…Tick. What if he stayed there all day? The world wouldn't notice this loss. No one would note the disappearance of an aged man. He again picked up the watch and placed it on his chest, over his heart. Tick…Tick. He felt the warm beat of her heart. The tempo of his heart and her watch beat together in time. He closed his eyes, ready to return to his angel. Tick. . . . . . . . Tick. The soft revolutions regressed and then became motionless.

Serene
Nelson Scoville

It stings
The flaunting sore
Evading the pain I open my wings
Serene…find that lone throne and ignore

Calm, Soaring down the shells
Glowing waves cry
The speechless rush excels
Immune to life's lie

Hidden tracks and escaping the cell
Finding pure seclusion
Releasing in a motionless space to dwell
Leaving it behind without confusion

The Fall of Calamity
Nelson Scoville

One dreams to be free of these time shackles,
Fighting the continuous drudgery,
He labors like agonizing jackals,
When finished he sees only blurry.
Overworking and falling in the deep,
Why he sits lacking, trying to ignore,
The body's struggle for refreshing sleep,
To achieve perfection he must do more.
He finds his search was a meaningless toy,
Always looking ahead to the next goal,
Losing viewpoint and temporary joy,
Succeeded, he looks back finding a hole.

Yes, he found success but was outlived,
Joy cannot be attained, only lived.