Whats On Her Wrist

Flores Delores and the Oris Chronoris: A Story of Love, Fear, Possession, and Time

Posted on March 29, 2017 Updated on March 30, 2017

There once was a girl named Flores Delores whose hair was as red as merlot.

Flores Delores had a mother named Doris who loved to read works by Thoreau.

 

Her father, Fitzmorris (who sang in the chorus), had a funny obsession with time.

But Flores Delores (her sign being Taurus) despised being second in line.

 

Whenever Fitzmorris would speak to dear Flores, her eyes would roll back in her head.

“Father, don’t bore us with tales of your Oris. Your watch talk; it fills me with dread.”

 

“But Flores, this isn’t just any old Oris,” Fitzmorris did state to his child.

“This is the new DATE Oris Chronoris!” Quipped Fitz, who then suddenly smiled.

 

Flores Delores was annoyed by this Oris and wanted it gone from her life.

Her father’s fixation with his newest Chronoris had even frustrated his wife.

 

“Mother, this Oris makes father ignore us. The watch must immediately go.

He used to adore us but now his Chronoris receives all the love he can show.”

 

“Child, he’d implore us to not touch his Chronoris. I suggest that you show some respect.

His feelings are porous; just talk to Fitzmorris, as that is what he would expect.”

 

But Flores Delores knew the Chronoris needed to soon disappear.

So, she called her friend Boris and her other friend Horace to help her get rid of the gear.

 

Boris and Horace and Flores had waited ‘til Fitz was asleep in his chair.

They then snuck in the door and crept over the floor before noticing his wrist was bare.

 

The three whispered in chorus, “Where’s the Oris Chronoris?” before Flores had noticed the book.

There ‘twas positioned on Thoreau’s 2^nd edition, making Flores say, “There it is! Look!”

 

Horace then swiped the new Oris Chronoris and the three of them ran toward outside.

“What now?” questioned Boris, who was looking at Flores, “That’s what you’ll need to decide.”

 

Young Flores was thinking as her eyes stared blinking and decided right there on the spot.

“Let’s bury it quickly before old Mr. Hickley sees that in school, we are not.”

 

So, Horace and Boris dug a hole near some laurus but made sure the watch went unhurt.

“Good riddance” said Flores to the Oris Chronoris which was now buried deep in the dirt.

 

Later, Fitzmorris (now missing his Oris) asked Flores if she’d seen it around.

“No, father” lied Flores knowing full well his Oris was three feet below in the ground.

 

“That’s so sad” said Fitzmorris as he thought of his Oris and shook his head slowly in vain.

“But father, don’t fear, for I am right here. This isn’t a loss, but a gain.”

 

“Sweet Flores Delores, you are quite the Taurus; stubborn, and strong like a bull.

For my dear, ‘twas that watch that allowed me to catch the moments I could, but in full.”

 

“When you had taken ill, I could give you your pill; the Chronoris reminded me to.

When your birthday was near, it was that watch, my dear, that helped me to celebrate you.”

 

“At night while you’re sleeping I’m often found weeping because time is the thing I can’t stop.

I’m reminded routinely and almost obscenely that one day, you won’t have your pop.”

 

“So, you see, my dear Flores, it wasn’t the Oris that took me away from your heart.

It is time that is fleeting, though death we are cheating, as long as we’re nary apart.”

 

“No watch could replace your beautiful face, and no timepiece could make me forget,

that you are reason the Earth changes seasons and on that I’d easily bet.”

 

That’s when Flores Delores had thought of the Oris that was ticking away below ground.

“Father, I hid it. I wanted to rid it; to have it no longer around.”

 

So, Flores Delores and her father Fitzmorris walked to the woods in the dark.

Then Flores Delores dug up the Chronoris and handed it back without mark.

 

Her eyes filled with tears, she seemed old for her years as she shamefully lowered her head.

“Daughter,” said Fitz as her chin he did lift, “it is time that I tucked you in bed.”

 

Under the cover as her father did hover, young Flores Delores had gone.

Head to her pillow, while the wind whipped the willow, she asked if he’d sing her a song.

 

“It is late, you are weary, the night skies are quite dreary, so a song, my dear Flores, must wait.

When you wake, on the dime, I will give you my time; as that is the gift you find great.”

 

“From now on, without question, I will set this possession to remind me each hour to say,

That the love for my Flores far surpasses my Oris, and that love grows with each passing day.”

 

“Now, here is your Teddy. Lights out, so be ready, and remember this quick little rhyme:

My daughter, my sweet, close your eyes, get some sleep, and tomorrow, let’s do all to stop time.”

 

 

*This piece is dedicated to a good friend and dear neighbor, Denis Gainty, who left us suddenly this week at the young age of 46. Denis, we will miss your presence in our lives. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that it certainly was not your time.