When I completed 50 years, my folks
presented me with heirloom jewelry.
They gave me Dad’s gold watch, and it evokes
by shining links its layered history.
For it was given to my dad, to mark
engagement to my mother, from her kin.
The time was winter, ‘47, dark
outside while all was light and warm within.

The face is small, the linkage intricate.
The watchworks tick as soon as it is wound.
Today I put it on my son – it fit
him perfectly, and now his wrist is bound
in sentimental gold, as if his hand
were fastened with a precious wedding band.