The Poetry Bus 27th. December.

The prompt that Muse Swings ask writers to address is
"The Unwanted or Unwelcome Gift."

Leaving Present

When I left school my science teacher said
"You won the Physics Prize because you learned
the formulae and stuff we get from books.
Well done, of course, well done, but Lucy - look,
take this away with you, and make it work."
This was a wind-up clock that didn't go!

Ever been gobsmacked!  But my whole class knew
method was never far below his madness.
Unkind! Not mad for wearing a bow-tie
and being not so tall  as he might like -
- that man could teach most colleagues out of sight.
"Er . . . thanks, Mr.Wills." He smiled "You will be back."

Nearly three months before I started Uni.
I got some books on clocks. I learned the parts.
How springs store energy, how ratchets work,
how the escapement keeps it all in check,
why clocks with pendulums must level sit -
even learned where the tick and tock come from.

When I was sure, I took the thing apart,
cleaned all the cogs of years of grime and dust,
marvelled how all those little teeth were made
precise, so every hour and day ran true,
marvelling at what men have learned to do
to get some measure of their Universe.

See - when I found the offending broken wheel
and knew I'd got it right I fairly danced.
I used the Internet to source a spare
(amazing what you find!). Then - fit the key.
And turn. And wind. And now .   she goes! She goes!
I called the School. His quiet voice said "Well done."

No need to ask if I could keep the clock.
In lodgings, bedsits, flats it's graceful tick
has kept me company. It separates
gone by from yet to come, reminding me
of patience, care, a gifted teacher's trust,
things beyond physics, never learned from books.