Sunday, June 20, 2010


Counting the days
They find in a year
To catalogue the moments
They always hoped for and feared.
Passing without thought then
Forgotten under the sands,
Lost with regret they can’t
Turn back a hand.
There are more following
Behind unsure of the same
Choices repeated in stride.
They stare at the cycle
Endless in turn,
Grinding away the gears
A clockwork motion presents
The real moments
Each and every do earn.
Then vapors gone leaving
Nothing to time.

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