The watch’s chain is gold,
what a beautiful timepiece in this rundown orphanage.
I used to keep it in my suitcase,
buried under a heap of wool sweaters
and crisp white blouses.
Then, when she snuck into my room
and curled up on my cot
because there was a monster under hers
I’d let her snuggle under my blanket.
But when she whispered to me,
“Tell me about your gold watch,”
I would reply that I would never show it to her
and when she asked why
I would get quiet
and hug my knees to my chest.
Today, though, I’m feeling different.
I guess I’ve changed, because
when I saw her tiny hands
clutching my only possession
in this world
and her chewed up fingernails painted with White-Out,
the corners of my mouth
might’ve turned up a little
and a giggle might have slipped through my lips
and I might have felt the first touch of happiness in a long time
in that warmth that spread through me.