Timepiece When Emma was four, she wanted a watch. Not just any dial, but the battered gold, The elderly guest at dinner, adorned on his wrist. It was shiny, yellow like the sun, Bent out of shape and yet, oh, how she yearned To hear the dutiful Breguet hands count time. Her heart desperate, she stalled until the vegetables were eaten. “Can I wear it too?” she asked, timidly pointing. The veteran’s eyes twinkled as he considered her request, She waited with baited breath, as the table paused to eavesdrop. “It hasn’t worked in years, but young lady it is yours.”
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