Time Traveler
In a café of clocks with smeared hour-hands I land,
A dusty time-sprinter, spring-loaded and grand.
I knot the past with a spark in my palm,
Deciding: “Shall I rewrite the war? Or just calm
the moment I spilled coffee on my first big report?”
I vanish to Versailles with a croissant in tow,
Pause the king mid-chant, whisper, “Maybe say ‘no.’”
Or maybe I nip to my dorm room at dawn,
Swap my quiet “yes” for a bold “let’s go on!”
I blink, I grin — the universe hiccups.
If I stop the stock crash, I’ll be rich, maybe safe.
But if I snip the bruise from youth… will the laugh leave my face?
I flick the lever, the cosmos swirls like confetti,
Time hands me back my mess, still a little sweaty.
Because changing one wink of what-was may yield what-could-be,
And I sip lukewarm coffee, wondering who I’ll now set free.
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