The Keeper of Time
He began that day at the same time for as long as the past had passed and strung out into time. For this day’s hours had arranged the same cereal, the same juice, and the same mug of coffee as it had for weeks to months and months to years. If anyone had told him that day nothing would be the same before noon, the keeper of time would have allowed his lips to savor the soft warmth of her cheek once more before the cold chill of sorrow stopped all the clocks. In his regret The cereal, The juice, And The coffee Would begin in another time To be kept to himself Over, and over, and over, again. geo c. 04/28/2019