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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