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The Timekeeper brings forth his pocketed charm, To welcome the Winter in his smile, And like a whisper careening off castle walls, Loosens the worries upon his promenade. The strain on his heart slips back into the never, He dangles the chain to twinkle in lamplight, Looking to the West for a pure sense of being, In which to further go about his life. Nonchalant in his steps, the Timekeeper promenades, As if the hellhounds were back on their leashes, But each of his eyes has a reason for teardrops, Which trickle absently down his cheeks. The charm reappears in the Timekeeper’s hand, And sees the minutes have passed arrangement, So figuring the obvious, he considers the cliché, Ceasing his promenade beside a lamppost. Wiping dampness from his face, the Timekeeper listens, For invisible footsteps, but hears not a tap, And as his heart begins to plummet deep into the never, He turns to see starlight in the young woman’s eyes.