The Watch Of Dollars

The one with the fat wallet
always counted seconds like change
because each minute to him
was opportunity to profit again.

He didn’t need it or wouldn’t suffer
if the hour passed without more riches,
so all his time was spent on schedules
utterly getting lots in the numbers and facts,
never saw a sunrise nor sunset
had no idea what the feels was like
of wind blowing on his face.

But he measured meaning by his bank account,
which always got larger
and tried to pretend the sacrificed seconds
where he missed out on a relationship
really didn’t matter.

Only on cold nights alone
the cash never gave hugs,
then every day was empty
because time was invested in business
with none in the heart.

In the retirement home
that savings book didn’t say a word,
it just made all the occasions for breath
a period of waiting
without a joy of reflections
over how someone shared the past.