The Watchmaker

stomach stilted,
harbour bound,
sweet dreams, love –
oh, these rain clouds
swirl like tea leaves
in an ink-stained sky
hush now, a golden-toned man

hums time’s tune
like notes to a song
like beats to a heart

whilst time scatters
its trail of rusty amber
breadcrumbs inside his head

they tick the tinkering
tock of clockwork seconds,
and the gears that turn
in the yearning ether

steadily thread into
a silvery nothing,
a deep-sea spray,
a different day

Love – as Time knows,
withers for no one
wants for nothing
and waits for him



Emily Sharkey is studying Creative Writing at Bath Spa University. She loves writing, learning French, playing the guitar, singing, drawing, and cats.