As he carefully wiped the face of the clock, he wondered – what if each hour represented a stage of life, which would he choose?
Would he pick the early morning hours so he could relive a childhood he never had?
Or, would he opt for mid-day where he’d chosen the other road instead. Would this have saved his young bride?
Perhaps he should choose the evening hours where he could observe the storm clouds blanketing the twilight sky as they attempt to hide a life full of regrets and broken dreams.
No matter which he chose he knew that time was no man’s friend.
The past was best left alone, and the future to remain obscured. For the moment, the present was beckoning him to stay. So stay he will.