To my love,
I watch you walk past my clock shop every morning on your way to the milliner’s. I don’t dare follow you, for fear of being shunned by you. My love for you is great, but not greater than my fear of your rejection, so here I sit. With my gears and springs and other things that are so familiar to me. My only view of you being what I can see as you pass by my window.
Are you as kind as you are beautiful? Does your heart already belong to another? I really have no way of knowing, but I must try to find out without making a fool of myself. I would perish if I thought you may be laughing over this little gift and the accompanying note with the other girls at the shop. But what else can I do? My life has always been about time, and now that I know what I want to do with it, and who I want to spend it with, it seems to be slipping away from me. So I must act rashly or remain unknowing and aching forever.
My heart beats like a ticking clock within my chest. For you and only you. I have made this special watch just for you, so you will remember that every time you see it. I hope that you will carry it with you in your pocket, purse, or on your chatelaine with the tools of your trade and wonder what it would be like to get to know me as well.
I will wait for you in this shop every day, and when I see you walk by with this watch swinging from the little charm that hangs on your jacket, I will know you are willing to take a chance on a lonely clock maker like myself.
Until then my darling.
I know what you’re thinking. Where’s the punchline? Well, surprise folks, this time there isn’t one. How do you like them apples? This is my entry for this week’s Picture It & Write Challenge.