The old Clock Maker

The old clock maker at his dusty old table stares at his masterpiece but finds no measure of joy. Twisted gnarled worked hands shake as he works in a deliberate fervor. Time to the old man is not for him to enjoy. All family, friends and acquaintances are not so permanent. A cold tool fumbles from his grip and crashes to the floor followed by yet another solemn tear. The passing of yet another year. All he ever loved is gone, no one will ever love the quiet clock master again. Foolishly he turns the hands of time backward with just a glimmer of hope that he will yet love again. He will run again and feel the warm sun upon his skin just one more time. But instead he feels the hardened wrench of reality. Time ticks on and the old man lowers his eyes to rest for just a moment. The broken clock begins to tick just as his heart quiets its tireless rhythms. Into memory he goes as the clock ticks away and no cause for all past glories. Left without surrender and no will left to fight. A fall to the ground, no salutes to the old man who would surrender. Now there is no one left to remember. Another passing ship in the darkest November.