Analysis of The Watch

Elegant and periodic,
Extensive and hypnotic.
Standing at the feet of this masterpiece,
A young boy with a heavy heart,
In a bedroom closet, hidden in the dark.
He can see its patterns in stark, detail.
Lines that flicker in and out,
Entangled but escaping,
Relentlessly changing.
Each line comes to an end,
At the point in which another begins.
A broken chronograph,
Affixed to an unobservant man's arm.
Hands leaping forward,
In an awkward progression,
Like a race between lovers,
Who can't stand convention.
Predictable but ungovernable,
The horologist is absent control,
Trying in vain to make the hands slow.
Elegant and periodic,  
Treacherous and despotic.
This line tangles around an old man's wrist,
The knots are quick but strong,
They lead the frightened man along.
Leading and pulling,
The boy, pleading in knowing,
Grabs the line in defiance,
As it whips left and right.
Flashes of an old country,
Of poverty and resilience,
Of independence and brilliance,
Of desperation and dependence,
Of love and selflessness,
Of a ceramic home held tightly to a chest.
The line, pulling with greater ferocity,
Forced the boy to lose hold.
He met the gaze of the old man,
As the lines froze,
No words were spoken, but everything was told.
An instant later the lines vanished,
Leaving the boy alone.
The lines ever present, pulling him along.