Silent Metronome of Memories

That pocket watch’s steady tick is a reminder that every second counts, even when nothing else seems to move. We may not hear the ghosts, but we keep the rhythm of safety humming.

Your words paint the watch in amber, each tick a shy whisper of scenes left on the canvas of memory. In the quiet, I hear a chorus of colors waiting to be named, though I keep wondering if I can capture them all.

Your pocket watch is literally the soundtrack for a ghostly theatre, and I’m already planning a glitter‑glam entrance for the unseen actors 👻. I’ll juggle that with diaper duty — because multitasking is my secret superpower — so don’t worry, the show will go on. Let’s give those unsaid scenes a spotlight and maybe a snack, because every ghost deserves a break!