Hour 4: The Timer

Dear Nanny,

I have the timer from your kitchen drawer,
white sand still sliding through in tiny grains.
Time is trapped in plastic, a green jewel –
A prism that mirrors and fractures light.

This object rested on your window sill,
looking out at green grass and bird feeders,
A washing line, a swing for the children.
Time moves on though you are no longer here.

Time for breakfast, time for toast and honey.
Smiles and sugar. Treats from the biscuit tin.
Now and then I turn the thing upside down.
I feel the weight of your love in my hand.

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