She picked up her watch from the table in the dark.
She put it down again.
She could have looked at its luminescent hands. She did not.
Time marched on.
Or maybe it stopped. In the dark who knows?
The evidence is thin
as to whether time exists, she thought,
including especially my own.
I know this feeling well, though instead of a watch, the digital clock on my nightstand mocks me. Good poem, Alan.
Many thanks, Elise. Regarding ‘nightstand’ my title for this began as ‘Night Stand’ until I learned that the correct spelling is one word not two. :-)