Grandmother's Watch

First attempt at a haibun. Never heard one until this morning so thought I'd try one.

My grandmother’s watch no longer works, but I still hold it close to my heart. Its age only makes it more precious. Vintage, some say, soon to pass its seventy-fifth year. Even with hands quiet as a leaf frozen in a winter pond, its presence holds her memory like the morning sun filtering through her living room window. We talked. We laughed. We savored sweet treats—the candy bowl by the sofa, always full.

where does the time go
ticking a rhythmic heartbeat
pulsing, silent, gone


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Note to my readers ▼

If you've written haibuns, your input is most appreciated. Thanks!