Every Saturday it is the same
Every Saturday I sit
I stare at the ticking hands and wait
No need to tell me I've been tamed

As the seconds pass
I watch my reflection in the glass
It is a wonder, I think
That I still look the same as the second before that passed

Yet inside I know a little more has died
Each tick brings me one step closer
To where you have gone
To a place of peace and sound.

And one day, many years from now
Someone will sit and wait,
Looking at the face that is at once theirs and not
And remember the hour of my passing,
Just as I sit and wait and remember yours.