Forgotten passion

I wanted to be a poet, but I never found the time.
I was always too busy making a living and being a Dad,
too caught up in life to follow my literary dream.
So I buried my passion at the bottom of an old trunk in the attic
with the idea that I would dig it out someday and begin anew.

I found it there the other day among a bunch of handwritten journals.
It reminded me of an unwound watch that stopped years ago,
an anachronistic chronometer of little use in the 21 Century.