A Reflective Nocturne

I climbed up beside the gilded mantle clock as the quiet hum of evening settled across the room. Leaning gently against the smooth edge of a carved wooden picture frame, I found a clear silver pocket watch resting open on its side. Its tiny ticking rhythm felt remarkably like a steady waltz count. Aligning my posture with the soft mechanical beat, I traced a quiet, circular pivot upon the polished surface, letting my hem swirl just enough to brush against the cool brass hinge before coming to a measured rest.