Poem Title: “The Keeper of Time” ✍️ By Vijay Sharma Erry --- A parcel came one cloudy noon, Wrapped in whispers, sealed in gloom. No name, no mark, no sender’s sign, Just fate’s own message on a line. Inside — a key of brass and age, And a note, like words from a sage: > “Go to the house where memories sleep, At twelve, the promise you must keep.” --- Through forest roads, through winds that sighed, Aarav drove where secrets hide. An old, dim cottage, cold and still, Stood waiting by the lonely hill. A rusted door, a lock of pain, He held the key, then paused again. For ink had warned — “Not yet, not now.” The clock struck twelve — he kept the vow. --- The lock gave way with trembling sound, A breath of frost crept underground. Steps led down where shadows crept, Where even echoes softly wept. A table stood in candle’s light, A box of wood, carved deep and tight. A note beside — “The truth you’ll find, But open only with a fearless mind.” --- He lifted lid, and saw inside, A silver watch, its hands reversed in time. Ticking backward, slow yet strong, Beating like an ancient song. And then — a voice, both near and far, Like thunder whispered from a star: > “My son, if you can hear me still, Guard what others seek to kill.” --- “The watch is more than time’s old chain, It holds the world’s unbroken vein. Each Keeper guards this fragile thread, Lest time itself falls cold and dead.” The light grew dim, the air grew thin, The watch began to pull him in. Back through years, through smoke and flame, He met a face that bore his name. --- His grandfather — alive once more, Behind him cracked the cottage door. Dark forms arose, with eyes like ice, Whispering, “Give back the device.”