Chronological Mayhem

I found a pocket watch the other day:
it was long since its brass was bold.
Its face was lined with numerous cracks;
it was grimy with dirt and mold.

The inscription inside the cover, though,
I found to be rather odd:
“Be careful when adjusting my time,
or upon different soil you will trod.”

I shrugged my shoulders in unconcern
and proceeded to wind the spring,
but when I pushed the button back in
the watch hands began to swing.

Faster and faster the hands spun 'round,
'till suddenly they stopped at twelve noon.
I felt rain begin to pelt my face
and the wind stir up a monsoon.

I dodged giant balls of hail
and threw my arms over my head,
but then as quickly as the storm began,
it stopped and the sun shone instead.

When I chanced a look around me,
my eyes widened in wonder.
Looking back down at the watch cover,
I then understood my blunder.

The world around me was completely different:
no automobiles or hydrants on the street,
no skateboards or bicycles or scooters,
nothing modern that one might meet.

The women wore gingham dresses
and held parasols to shade the sun.
The men wore hats and cowboy boots,
and each surprisingly carried a gun.

Clapboard buildings and hitching posts,
carriages, dusty streets, and horses--
why, I had gone back in time!
The watch played with unseen forces!

I wish I could tell you a happy end
to my little time-traveling tale.
Alas, much as I tried and tried,
to return to my time, I did fail.

So, I learned to adapt and lived out my days
in the adventurous wilds of the Old West.
I learned to laugh and live and love;
blending in, being normal, was my quest.

I had been named after my great-grandmother,
and now I understand why:
besides sharing a birthdate with her,
I realized that she was I!

If there is any wisdom from my life
that I may pass to you, it's this:
if a watch gives you instructions, follow them,
lest you be thrown into a chronological abyss!